Lotos et Serpentium
by ShareBearTheDeathBear
Summary: It is said that a child born under the influence of a love potion will never know love. The gods, in a single act of mercy, bestow upon this child a gift – a lotus that will survive his darkness. Time Travel. Soul bonds.
1. Lotos et Serpentium

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

_The lotus thrives in the darkest waters._

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**Chapter One: Lotos et Serpentium (The Lotus and the Snake)**

Seven years had passed since the Wizarding World had witnessed the fall of the darkest wizard known to history – Lord Voldemort. Within these seven years, a flurry of marriages and baby carriages frequently went hand-in-hand. Padma Patil herself had been invited to Luna Lovegood's – _soon-to-be Luna Scamander_, she corrected herself – wedding, probably due to the fact that she didn't bully Luna like the rest of their Ravenclaw alumni. But then again, there was a possibility that she invited most of the 'Claws anyway – Luna always was a kind-hearted girl despite her rather _absurd_ beliefs.

Seven years had passed, and Padma Patil was still as single as ever. While this fact would have daunted other witches, Padma fervently believed that there were better things to do in the post-war vacuum that had resulted from the almost mass chaos that were the first two years after His death. Celebrations had been evident in every street – regardless of Muggle presence. The Ministry had to work overtime simply to make sure that the International Statute of Secrecy was still intact. It was a happy time, Padma would readily admit, but it was also a time marked by grief and slight wariness. They had spent so much of their lives in fear that they were still unsure of their next move. The victory had been rather double-edged – He had been defeated, yes, but the Ministry's corruption was ripped from the veil of deception and apparent for all to see. There was a rush for new blood – people were sacked and hired on the spot. There was an outcry for change throughout the magical community – tolerance was at an all-time high. After all, what better way to give and receive respect than during a war? Blood purists were pushed back to the edges of society – shame was their only companion. Most of the prominent families (read: pure-blood) had been disgraced, only a few such as the Longbottoms and the Potters still retained their full status. Most had been stripped down to the same stigma they had been giving to Muggleborns or blood traitors for centuries. They were now social pariahs – a phenomenon they had never experienced in all their centuries of magic and blood and tradition.

Many of Padma's yearmates were given invitations for positions within the Ministry, though many did return to school – if only to complete their N.E.W.T.s like Hermione Granger. Some, however, went straight to work. Padma had gone to the Euro-Glyph School of Extraordinary Languages to further her studies in Ancient Runes and obscure magical languages. She always had a bit of finesse when it came to Runes and Charms. Parvati, her constantly squealing twin, had grown quieter mostly due to the death of her best friend Lavender Brown. She was still the brightly-colored fashionista that Padma could remember from childhood – but there was an air of maturity that now surrounded her younger twin. She was slightly more subdued now but she still had quite the flare for gossip and always indulged her twin with "girl" talk.

Her amorous twin was currently dating Seamus Finnigan much to the chagrin of their parents who wanted the both of them to settle down and _marry_. But they seemed pacified by the continued promise of settling down into their careers before establishing a household. Parvati, to nearly no one's surprise, went straight into fashion and began designing clothing especially dress robes – she even did a bit of an apprenticeship with Madam Malkin before selling her creations by herself. Padma often felt nostalgic whenever she wandered into her sister's flat, snorting at the wizard's dress robes because the memory of their ill-fated dates to the Yule Ball. She and her sister usually still had a good laugh at the horrendous reminder of a certain Weasley's "fashionable" dress robes.

"Pam!" Padma didn't move an inch from her desk, her bewitched spectacles showing the intricate carvings of the Runes making them appear as though they were floating before her eyes. Her entire office was filled to the brim with various parchments flying about – sorting themselves into stacks, pinning themselves to walls, and a few in the process of being written on – and a large tome sat in front of her.

Gemma Jones was her colleague – though her specialty had been in Welsh and Romanic Runes rather than the eastern ones Padma preferred. They often had to work together in the Department of Mysteries, using their expertise to decipher even the most weathered and antediluvian of glyphs. Despite Gemma being five years her senior, Padma found her to be the most agreeable friend since she was knowledgeable, respectable, and amiable. The older witch had a tangled, brown bun and her outfits were always completed with a pair of spectacles – bewitched both for her work and for her poor eyesight.

"Did you get the memo? They've moved the meeting to this afternoon," Gemma asked as she adjusted her glasses, carefully avoiding the numerous papers fluttering around her generous frame. Padma stilled, looking up from her work and glancing around her office – looking for a bright blue color, the department head's stationery. It was difficult to find the note among the numerous fluttering parchments that were flying around her office. Padma bit her lip and the sound of rustling paper became quite clamorous until she finally spied the document between the books of her bookshelf.

The paper immediately flew to its mistress's hands, and Padma scanned the flowery script before looking up at her friend.

"It says we're meeting him this Thursday." Padma frowned, obviously confused.

Gemma shook her head. "The department head's been a bit . . . addled because the budget's due in under a fortnight. He's decided that you're to be the one to meet the liaison from Gringotts to investigate the artefact they found. Apparently, they think it's more Asian in nature."

"Liaison?" Padma muttered as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Unlike her sister who had graduated from braids to a more mature updo – Padma still tightly wove her hair into the familiar design, claiming that it kept her hair out of her face just the way she liked it.

"You know," Gemma nudged as a slight pinkish hue appeared on the tips of her ears, "Bill Weasley."

"Gemma!" Padma nearly shouted, "He's happily married with kids!"

Gemma rolled her eyes. "Oh hush. He's still quite fit for a married man."

Gemma may have been a rather respectable witch but she was prone to crushes – she often complained that her bitter Aunt Gilda had cursed the women in her family and that was the reason why she had never had a steady boyfriend for more than a few months. It was the only thing about her friend that drove Padma up the wall on occasion.

Padma scowled. "Looks like I'm leaving. And I had promised Parv that we'd go out to lunch too." She waved her wand wordlessly and streams of parchment and books began to flow into her blue leather satchel. She had personally charmed the satchel which had been given to her as a Christmas present from her sister. It was navy-blue colored leather – her sister had told her it was a rather popular choice of material for Muggles, though wizards tended to prefer dragonhide – adorned with bronze letters that spelled her name. The color scheme reminded her of more innocent times – her first year at Hogwarts and coincidentally, her first year away from her twin. It was the first time they had ever been apart for more than a few hours. Padma snatched up the cross-body bag before checking over her office, briefly considering whether she should bring less detailed books – Runes were often geographically based, knowing the origin of the artefact usually did wonders for its translation.

Using the Floo, Padma soon found herself at Diagon Alley before quickly writing a memo on her ivory stationery and watched the airplane zoom towards Parvati's shop, informing her twin that she wouldn't be able to keep their lunch date. Padma walked briskly towards the white columned building and through the bronze doors, flashing her Ministry badge she was almost immediately taken to a goblin by the name of Fugnok.

"Greetings, Fugnok. All is well I presume?" Padma smiled after hearing his greeting, she rather liked the wizened old goblin – he reminded her of her grandfather back in India. Both had an old-world charm about them and a similar businesslike, no-nonsense attitude that she could appreciate. She suspected that the goblin liked her as well – not nearly as much as he did Curse-Breaker Bill Weasley – but her general knowledge of Gobbledegook usually made her the preferred Ministry liaison even surpassing the buffoons they sent from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

The goblin gestured her towards the cart, "The artefact in question was discovered early this morning; the Ministry has declared that it takes precedence." Her stomach did a few flops as the other goblin – Lomrig, she believed – took them on a steep path in the rickety cart. The cart zoomed down kilometers and kilometers of passageways – taking them further and further underground. They arrived before the vault within thirty minutes – the longest ride she had ever been experienced. Padma was pleased that it took even less time for her get her bearings. Waiting before the entrance was a red-haired, muscular, heavily-scarred man that had a fang adorning one of his ears – the famous Bill Weasley.

"Padma it's good to see you. How are you?" He shook her hand while casting a wolfish smile. They had worked together before – few wizards or witches ever went far in the study of Ancient Runes and her expertise in the Asiatic languages was almost unmatched. Bill's job involved breaking any curses that could still be lingering on an object – even after centuries of disuse. Reading the Runes on an artefact could often be the deciding factor in saving a Curse-Breaker's life – as well as discovering its purpose.

"Busy as usual. How are Victoire and Fleur and Dominique?" She smiled; Bill was quite the family man despite his adventurous occupation.

"Oh, Fleur's pregnant – practically glowing. Victoire and Dominique are very excited about being older sisters. They're convinced that they'll find the baby being carried in by fairies in a few months." Padma smiled as she listened to him gush about his daughters but it sent a small ache in her chest as she wondered whether she'd ever be gushing about her own progeny in the future. Dismissing the snide thought, she focused her attention on Bill again.

"It was found in one of the older vaults, someone dated that it may have been built around the 1800s. It was supposedly brought in by some unknowing Muggles from India until the Ministry discovered and confiscated the item. They've sealed it up ever since." Padma nodded as she had her enchanted quill jot down some notes – the time period could be helpful.

"Do we have any further knowledge on the artefact? What is its purpose?" Padma peered at the large "7" that adorned the huge vault as she further questioned the Curse-Breaker.

Bill shrugged. "Haven't got a clue really. None of the records say – looks like they were too wary to attempt anything."

"When was it brought into the vault?" Padma continued, trying to gain any little advantage that she could. She hated going into a project blind – sure it was exciting, but exciting and magic often didn't go well together. Her work as an Unspeakable was very dependent on information, but this assignment was much less . . . exclusive as the others. As a translator, she found herself needed widely throughout the different areas of expertise but this particular case was quite ordinary if she had been loaned to a different department.

Bill briefly looked over some parchments, "Says it was brought to London around 1946 or early 1947 by the Muggles. The Ministry didn't get a hold on it until the 1980s. It's been under lock and key ever since."

"That's quite the gap. Makes it sound like it'll be better to keep it locked up," Padma murmured, frowning.

"The Department of International Magical Cooperation passed a new regulation – this thing's supposed to be sent straight back to India after declaring it safe for transport. Declared it a piece of Magical History or something." Bill nodded at Lomrig and Fugnok – both starting to open the massive vault.

After the vault was opened, Padma stared tentively into the dark abyss – her wand in hand before muttering _Lumos Maxima_. Bill stood slightly in front of her, his own wand adorned with light as the goblins followed with lanterns. The vault was quickly filled with a warm yellow glow as light began to push the darkness back. Within the center of the impossibly massive vault was an elaborate black arch adorned with intricate carvings – Sanskrit in nature, Padma believed – surrounding the arch was a purple shield, likely put in place to prevent accidental tampering or cursing. In the center of the arch were three gems – gems that she recognized from the stories her mother used to tell her.

"_Merlin's pants,_" Padma murmured as she gazed at the structure.

"You recognize it?" Bill asked, his wand still clutched in his hand and his brow furrowed.

"It's – It's something that I've only heard in fairy tales. I thought my mother was joking when she told my sister and me. I'm not so sure about all of this arch – but those gems, they're legendary." Padma's fingers went to stroke the stone around her own neck – the necklace she had been given just a few months ago, replacing the one that had been given to her before entering Hogwarts.

She can still remember the identical heart-shaped necklaces that her father had given the twins just before getting their Hogwarts's letters. Each had the letter "P" and Padma remembered changing hers blue to match her House colors. On their twenty-fifth birthday, their mother had given them different necklaces. Parvati had been given a Moonstone – to open her heart (in light of Lavender's death and in hopes that she would settle down and given them a few grandchildren) while Padma's had been a brilliant blue sapphire.

Her mother had jokingly stated that the blue sapphire was the _Syamantak Mani_ – the famed jewel of heaven that had once adorned the necklace of the Sun god, Surya. This, of course, was not true. The real jewel had been a ruby, not a blue sapphire. Muggles had been the one to spread the rumor of the blue sapphire – only because they had been unable to find the real _Syamantak Mani_. She had been told that the necklaces had been passed down her mother's family – given to the two eldest sisters. Since her mother had only brothers and no sisters to speak of – both necklaces had been given to her for safe-keeping.

"Well, you know what they say about fairy tales." Padma gave him a look that almost resembled derision as Bill chuckled.

"There were four jewels of heaven: the _Kaustabha Mani_, the _Chinta Mani_, the _Rudra Mani_ and the _Syamantak Mani_. When these four are brought together, it was said it was possible to bring heaven to its knees," Padma droned from memory, trying to rack her brain for more information.

"But I only see three," Bill said as he inspected the purple barrier.

Padma shook her head. "There's a slot for the additional jewel, it looks like whoever stole the arch didn't know it was missing something. Lucky for us, it means that the arch is probably useless. The Runes wouldn't be able to function properly without the correct energy source and the inclusion of the right jewels is crucial."

Bill nodded. "Alright. Stand back, I'm breaking the barrier. Lomrig and I will go through the process. According to the vault description, the barrier isn't absorbing curses – it's merely absorbing the residual magical signature and preventing it from corrupting the surrounding vaults. It'll be easier to decipher the Runes this way."

Padma made her way to the doorway with Fugnok following at her side. Fugnok soon resurrected a barrier to prevent the magical backlash from harming them as Padma watched Bill give the signal. Both wizard and goblin began to cast spells – though the goblin's method was different from anything Padma had ever seen before. The purple barrier began to dissipate slowly and Padma could feel the ripples of residual magic flow through the air.

The magic itself felt ancient – that was to be expected, of course – but Padma wasn't expecting the melancholy that accompanied it. It was almost as though the artefact was crying out – whether it was in pain or grief, Padma was hesitant to find out.

After the barrier was gone and Bill declared it safe enough to get closer, Padma quickly took out some heavy-set volumes from her small bag as well as her enchanted glasses (stowing her wand safely away in her bag) and went to work. Her papers rustled like the wings of birds in the breeze as she began translating and copying the Runes into her notes. Bill, who had some experience in eastern Runes from his work in Egypt, also began to help. The goblins called their farewells, after stating that they were a mere call away. Padma had to look over her first line of translation almost three times before realizing what she had in front of her.

The Runes themselves were not complicated – they were simple looking by all accounts but their meaning was something else entirely. It was well known in the Wizarding World that a single Rune could be used for a complex enchantment that couldn't be achieved through hundreds of words of Charms and wand movements. It was this flexibility that drew Padma to the craft in the first place – there were just so many possibilities to create and her Ravenclaw curiosity was practically swooning at the piece in front of her.

"Any luck?" She heard Bill ask.

"I've definitely seen this before but there's something," Padma began pacing around the expansive room, trying to figure out the problem set before her, "There's just something missing from the arch. The magic that's coming off the artefact is well within my expectations for its function but –"

"Your expectations?" Bill quickly interjected, "You know what this thing does?"

Padma briefly turned her head towards the Curse-Breaker, "This Rune, _Atman_, means soul." Padma then pointed to another Rune that she had the quill elegantly copy for her. "And this Rune, _Kala_, has multiple meanings – it could mean time, darkness, fate or even death."

Bill's confused look obvious told her that she needed to elaborate.

Padma struggled with the wording, hoping to keep it from sounding as absurd as she thought it was. "I think that whoever created this archway was concerned with Soul bonds. This arch is supposed to form a portal of some kind – a portal that would take you to your Soul bond or at least in theory."

Soul bonds were mysterious and powerful things in the magical world. They were similar to blood rituals – little was known about them. Soul bonds were volatile things. Merging your magic with someone else had the potential for great power – it not only lent immense magical reserves but the focus to wield it properly. Unfortunately, this power did not come readily. It was much more likely that you would never meet your Match – in fact, it was much more likely that your Match was long dead before you even entered the world. To meet one's Match was considered to be very, very fortunate – a true, once-in-a-millennia encounter. It is said that when one meets the other half – your Match, as wizards liked to call it – the Match's name would appear on your wrist for _only_ your Match to see. According to some texts, it was this way that wizards were able to confirm that this was indeed a Soul bond and not merely a Blood bond (which were much more artificial and inelegant in nature).

Soul bonds were much more common in magical creatures that took only one mate – such as goblins – or in some antiquated magical communities (like some villages in her native India and others where the ancient rites and practice were better understood). Every creature was given half a soul – _sometimes_ this soul wielded magic – and usually this didn't have any untoward effects. People could live their lives quite happily even if they never found the other half of their soul. But should the two halves ever meet only then to be separated – the entire world was at their magical mercy.

Her mother had told her and Parvati stories about Soul bonds – she could remember her sister swooning over how "romantic" the idea but Padma could only shudder. Just because two people were Matched did not necessarily mean that they instantly loved each other – in all senses, it merely meant they were stuck with each other. Padma had cringed at that news – finding out that you were stuck with someone you barely knew for all eternity didn't appeal to her one bit. It had frightened her as a little girl and it still frightened her now.

Bill whistled appreciatively – Soul bonds were powerful things, not necessarily Dark but not exactly Light either. They were more Primal or Elemental than anything else – something his corner of the Wizarding World had never really experienced before.

"Is it too dangerous to pack up?" He asked, gazing at the archway with a newfound air of caution.

Padma shrugged. "I need more time translating these Runes. If I find out exactly what thing was used for, it'll probably be better." She turned back to her notes as her brow furrowed. "While I'm pretty sure that the archway is totally useless without that fourth stone, it's the fact that it's still giving out residual magic that's quite concerning."

"It's probably the main reason why the barrier was resurrected, residual magic is usually never a good thing and it's best to keep it contained." Padma nodded, artefacts often absorbed the magic that frequently left wizards and witches – supercharging them to where it could be dangerous. It was especially so in the case of older artefacts – those were designed to be sensitive to the slightest drop of magic.

The artefact wasn't overtly dangerous – it wouldn't have survived out in the Muggle world so long if it had been. The Ministry would have put priority on it otherwise – then again, the Ministry hadn't been exactly competent in the last few years especially if Fudge's performance was considered the norm. Fudge, of course, had been sacked and replaced by Kingsley Shacklebolt – a change that would lead to revolutionize the other departments of the Ministry of Magic. This could possibly explain why they were sending Padma to clean up these "loose" ends rather than keep her focused on her duty as an Unspeakable.

"Is it safe if I inspect a little closer? I've always been a bit . . . hands-on in my research," Padma asked aloud as she marveled over the carvings – they were hand-carved, not done by magic. It was strange, needless to say, since wizards were notoriously lazy for tasks that did not involve magic.

"It should be fine. This item is labeled as Non-dangerous – I've done more than the usual standard counter-curse just to be sure." Padma smiled in glee as she began to run her fingers along the carvings, marveling at what she was seeing. There was a complex amalgamation of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes that made her head spin. The numbers seemed to be referring to dates – or at least, that's what she thought – there was another set of calculations specifically to the Time Displacement. Padma's forehead was furrowed in concentration, shifting up onto her toes to inspect the Runes more carefully. She felt an odd burning sensation near the base of her throat, glancing downwards all she could see was a bright, piercing light that blinded her eyes.

"Padma!"

She could hear shouts in English and Gobbledegook as she started, falling forward through the gate of the arch – a light hum registering in her ear drums.

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**Please review. Updates will be sporadic.**

**[Edit: 10/5/2013]**


	2. Anima

**I do not own **_**Harry Potter**_**.**

**Padma falls through the mysterious archway. What awaits her on the other side?**

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**CHAPTER TWO: Anima (Soul)**

_A lotus thrives in the dirtiest of waters._

_Year One_

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Falling sideways was believed to be quite the experience – it was much different from falling up or even falling down for that matter. Falling sideways, in the Wizarding World, often metaphorically symbolized a movement in time. Since, _of course_, time moved sideways not merely up or down. Time-Turners were a relatively recent invention – early development had started in the 1950s while its widespread use didn't begin until the 1970s. But even with this device, wizards were terribly limited in their manipulation of time. Time-Turners could not move forwards – merely backwards – and even the amount of time they moved backwards was limited. It was said that the Time-Turner could only go as far back as a day in the past – though this theory had never been reliably tested. There were certain things in the Wizarding World that were avoided and not spoken of – Time was one and Death was the other.

Falling sideways, Padma Patil had realized, was a rather uncomfortable mode of transport. Even though she was able to legally Apparate, she still preferred the Floo or Portkey. Something about being squeezed on all sides as though she was being packed in a glass tube didn't quite appeal to her. Unfortunately, the best description that Padma could give to falling sideways as that it was very similar to that of Apparating – but in this case, she felt as though her limbs were shrinking, compacting until she felt as though she were half her size.

She was unable to make a sound as she was squeezed and pushed in a single, linear direction. Her eyes were still shut tight as she clenched her jaw as she endured the unpleasant sensations, hoping desperately that this would all end soon.

Just as she felt as though her journey would never end, Padma gave out a small yelp as she was pushed back on her arse onto something lumpy but fluffy. She rubbed her eyes irritably before waiting for her eyes to re-adjust back from the violent brightness to normal daylight.

Standing before her with a wicked smirk, though his eyes were nearly the size of dinner plates, was a young boy – dark-haired and just over the age of eleven if she was not mistaken. The boy was easily overlooked but upon closer inspection, Padma could sense a certain air of malevolence surrounding him that put her off-ease. She described it as a chill that cut through the thickest cloth despite the shining of the sun's rays. Yet there was still some childlike innocence that accompanied it – as though there was some naiveté that could still be found.

She had landed on a bed – modestly outfitted and modestly sized. The room was essentially small but efficient; a dresser decorated the other end of the room though its drawer was open as though someone had ransacked its contents.

On the other side of the bed, however, was someone much more recognizable. Despite his youthful appearance and the auburn beard, Padma knew without a doubt who this man was. This was, in fact, Albus Dumbledore – a great wizard, a great wizard who should have been deceased for nearly a decade.

"My dear, are you alright?" His voice, despite the appearance, was the same. It was the same voice that had made the speech during her Sorting and the same voice she had End-of-Term speech for nearly five years of her life.

Padma quickly assessed her options while her mind ran through the Runes she had inspected in a fevered frenzy. Soul bond, time, death, destiny – they all led her to a startling realization. A realization that she fervently hoped was merely an unfortunate and untrue hypothesis. But like all hypotheses, it had to be tested. It had to be proven wrong – it had to be proven wrong without a doubt!

"Sir," her voice sounded so much smaller than it had been before, "may I inquire the date?"

"August 26nd, 1938," He answered in that wise voice of his. There was a short pause before he added, "Perhaps, Tom, it is best if you can acquire some tea."

_Tom? _The unsettling feeling increased in Padma's mind, provoking some newfound paranoia.

The boy looked at her with dark eyes – though his eyes were grey in color, Padma found them to be dangerously clear much like the silence before a disastrous storm – before replying, "Yes, professor." He left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

"Now, young lady, may I ask where you came from?" He asked softly, his face was soft and trusting. His eyes were a prominent blue – the same blue that had adorned the covers of Rita Skeeter's latest written splash – _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore._

Seeing this as her chance to obtain information and _hopefully_ support, Padma's words began to leap out of her mouth. "Sir, is it possible for you to cast a temporary Imperturbable Charm? I do not wish for this information to leave this room."

Dumbledore raised an auburn eyebrow, but nonetheless cast the spell.

_Okay Padma, _she thought, _you're stuck about sixty-seven years in the past without a wand, talking to a man's who's been in the ground for over five years. Think of priorities – acquire housing, assistance back to the appropriate time zone, acquire a new wand, and, hopefully, leave the time stream intact._

But how much could she tell Dumbledore? The man was trustworthy, Padma knew that for sure. Unfortunately, the numerous theories on Time itself were very distinct – even in the Department of Mysteries, Padma knew that they had barely scratched the surface of its secrets. If she told him too much, she could compromise the future but tell him too little and it was highly unlikely that he would believe her story.

Padma took a deep calming breath. "Due to unforeseeable circumstances that I cannot describe in detail, I have arrived from sixty years in the future via an artefact from my work at the Department of Mysteries. Unfortunately, I do not know how to return back to my appropriate era nor do I have my wand."

"Well that's hardly surprising, young lady." Padma gasped both in confusion and at his easy acceptance of the statement.

"Young lady?" Padma frowned. Although this was not the time to nitpick his speech, something about his precise use of language made Padma very uncomfortable. She was twenty-five – a woman in all rights!

"Young wizards are not supposed to receive their first wands until they come of age – at least, that's how it works here in magical Great Britain. Tell me, will it be commonplace for the Ministry to utilize youth such as yourself in the future?" Dumbledore responded kindly.

Noting her confusion, Dumbledore quickly conjured a small mirror and handed it to Padma who took the item with shaking hands. She peered carefully in the mirror, noting that she still had the enchanted spectacles perched upon her head but she trembled when she saw the younger, rounder face before her. It was a face that she had not seen in nearly fourteen years. Padma quickly looked over her limbs as well as her clothing – which was the same she had put on that morning, but was now terribly loose and long – and with each new revelation, the scowl was set deeper and deeper into her features.

"I-I'm eleven again?!" Padma choked out.

"You have been eleven before?" The blue twinkling eyes were staring at her curiously.

Padma nodded dumbly as her hands still trembled.

"Miss –"

"Anala Agarwal," Padma blurted out – she was still unsure of how much she could give to Dumbledore without compromising the future. The name had belonged to her maternal grandmother and had been the closest to her tongue.

"Miss Agarwal, do you have any relations or someone you could contact in the Ministry for this sort of circumstance?" Dumbledore gently inquired.

Padma shook her head, "The artefact that caused this anomaly does not come into known record until 1946. And it does not reach the Ministry's hands until the 1980s. The department that I belong to won't exist for another ten years. And I highly doubt that there's a form for 'Time-Traveler' in the Ministry of Magic." After this statement, Padma felt tears come to the corners of her eyes – she hadn't realized how hopeless the situation was until now.

"I see." Dumbledore replied, stroking his shorter beard, "I suppose that I can make arrangements at Hogwarts for you, until a better alternative appears."

Padma gasped as her eyes widened, "R-really?"

Dumbledore smiled. "It appears that the best course action is to wait, Miss Agarwal. Perhaps patience will reveal a way for you to return home. But, of course, we will have to form a cover-story for you. As beautiful as you are, I fear that not many will believe the likelihood should we claim that we are related."

Padma chuckled – both in humor and relief – before pondering. "What is your position at Hogwarts currently, sir?" Naturally, she knew that Dumbledore had been the Transfiguration Professor before becoming Headmaster and, logically, it was likely for him to be the Deputy Headmaster in this time. But Padma did not want to make assumptions; she could not reveal how much she knew of this world.

"I am Deputy Headmaster as well as the Professor of Transfiguration and the Head of Gryffindor."

Padma nodded vigorously. "And as Deputy Headmaster you naturally visit the homes of the Muggleborns because they essentially do not have a Magical guardian that can inform them of their situation."

Dumbledore nodded.

"Well then, sir, I suppose it will be possible to simply explain that my parents live in India but wished for me to attend school in Britain and due to the inconvenience of both distance and time, they've selected you as my Magical liaison or Ward, if you will. If anyone inquires further, I can state that my father is ill and that my mother had passed away."

Padma bit her lip, "Unfortunately, my account at Gringotts does not currently exist . . ."

Dumbledore waved her worry away, "There is a fund for students that require assistance."

Padma nodded as she bit back a smile – she could just imagine what Parvati would say about her wearing second-hand robes. Then again, this was a different time period. The uniform and Wizard's Wear could be vastly different from the fashions she was used to.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Dumbledore quietly wave his hand obviously performing a nonverbal spell but why?

He question was answered as the door open with Tom and the tea in tow.

Padma forced the turmoil in her stomach to still – it wouldn't do if she appeared like a crazed loon in front of the boy who was mostly likely seeing magic for the first time.

Dumbledore smiled as he conjured three cushy chairs seemingly from nowhere and Padma couldn't help but smile at the amazed glee she could see in the boy's eyes. There was a certain sense of wonder that she knew she would never possess – she had been born with magic surrounding her (both of her parents were fully capable wizards in their own right, though her mother tended to perform household charms more than anything else) and it _usually_ didn't surprise her. Then again, she supposed, she never expected that magic would be able to take someone this far into the past.

Tom quietly handed the chipped teacup to Dumbledore who smiled in thanks, but when he proceeded to do the same for Padma – their fingertips brushed ever so slightly. Usually, for Muggles, this occurrence was nothing – a mere accident that wouldn't be pondered further by either party.

Unfortunately, for the two young wizards in this very, very unfortunate circumstance, a single brush was enough for the magic to jump between them causing a jolt of white-hot energy to zap between the pair – the teacup was instantly dropped and subsequently shattered as both began to clutch their wrists. The white-hot energy didn't necessarily hurt per se, but Padma could feel her magic practically vibrating. She had never felt this charged with magic since – since one of her incidents with accidental magic!

She had been seven and stuck at a wedding in India – her third cousin's, if she remembered correctly – and Padma had been dreadfully bored. Unlike Parvati who cooed over the traditional sari that the bride was wearing or her henna, Padma wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner and read. It wasn't that Padma hadn't liked parties (in fact, she quite liked dancing) but it was more that she was exasperated with the fact that she would be stuck there (where it was hot, sticky, and full of people she didn't know she was related to) with little reprieve for what seemed to be hours on end.

She wanted to go back to her _dadi's _(or grandmother's) house which was where they had been staying for the duration of the wedding. Just after she felt the rush of magic, she found herself in her bed exactly where she wanted.

Never mind the fact that she had just Apparated kilometers away from the rest of her family in the blink of an eye. She remembered her mother saying that she gave them quite a fright – until they returned back to her grandmother's house and found Padma sleeping with a book on her chest.

But this, whatever this was, was much less fleeting. Even when she jolted away clutching her wrist, the tingles and waves took at least a few minutes to subside. She glanced down in horror as she saw a name written on her wrist in what seemed to be old English script.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_

For Padma it was as though time itself stood and laughed at her. She could hear the boy – that boy, Tom – coldly though politely questioning Dumbledore about what was happening. Her wrist was shaking as a sob threatened to burst through her throat; tears began to burn her vision and her face contorted into a horrid sneer – wasn't she just lamenting earlier that she couldn't find someone?

And now she was stuck with someone for all of eternity.

Tears splattered on her cheeks. Falling sideways sixty years in the past, losing her wand, and turning eleven _again_ – but Soul bonding to a boy she had never known and anchoring her here in this, practically deserting her in a Time that wasn't her own – she _knew_ that that took the cake.

She desperately wanted to convince herself that this was a dream but it felt too real. The magic still coursing through her veins despite her shock, the cool tears on her hot cheeks and the scratchy-clogged feeling in her throat all told her one thing – that this was real.

"Miss Agarwal?" She could hear Dumbledore's voice but it sounded so far off.

Padma inhaled deeply, mentally shaking off her panic. It would not do to panic now – she could do that later when she was alone. But now – now she had to deal with the reality presented with her with the only thing she had – her wits.

Quietly wiping her tears away with the back of her hand, Padma answered rather calmly and bravely looked up at Dumbledore's concerned face. She could see the boy scowling at her; a frown was evident on his features. Padma noticed that Dumbledore had cleaned the spilt tea and repaired the teacup to its previous state.

"Professor, what is this writing on my wrist? I've never seen this before – and it's not English." Tom said impatiently, ignoring the half-crying girl.

"Miss Agarwal, can you look at Tom's wrist for me, please? And Tom, if you would do the same," Dumbledore asked gently as he adjusted his spectacles in what seemed to be a mix of intrigue and fascination.

The boy pulled up his sleeve and Padma shakily gestured her thin wrist towards him. She gazed down at the pale wrist and nearly sighed in relief – her name wasn't written in English, thankfully, but in Hindi. While there was a possibility that Dumbledore could read Hindi (though it was fairly slight, it was much more likely for him to able to read Sanskrit since that was the most similar to the Ancient Runes of India) he couldn't see the name since only the two halves of the Soul could see them. Meanwhile, the boy seemed to be scrutinizing her wrist just as intently – his lips were curled slightly. Whether it was in fascination or displeasure, Padma didn't notice – she was just happy that she would be keeping her secret for a little while longer.

"Why is my name on her wrist?" Tom asked after quite a bit of time had passed.

"Miss Agarwal, do you see your name on Tom's wrist?" He glanced at her.

Padma nodded wordlessly.

Dumbledore paused thoughtfully, "Well then. It would appear that Hogwarts will be welcoming its first set of Soul bonds since its opening."

"Soul bonds . . .sir?" Tom asked.

"Little is known about them. A Soul bond typically only occurs when the two halves of a Whole soul meet, forming an unbreakable bond between two wizards. It has been noted that there often . . . consequences to such a union."

"Is this commonplace for wizards, sir?" There was a glint in his eyes that Padma didn't trust; there was a black inky feeling that was starting to stir within the pit of her stomach.

"No my boy, in fact, a Soul bond is highly extraordinary even for the most distinguished of wizards. There are less than twenty known cases in the written record," Dumbledore recited from memory almost as though he was recalling a book that he had read from long ago. Padma quietly noted that she should probably ask Dumbledore the details of a Soul bond since she was rather unfamiliar with them herself. She had also noticed the small smirk that had appeared on Tom's face when he had uttered the word 'extraordinary'.

"Is there a way to break this bond?" Tom calmly continued.

Padma, unable to control herself, scoffed indignantly and rolled her eyes. The very idea of breaking the Unbreakable bond was purely preposterous. "Well I'm _quite_ sorry that I'm not up to your standards, Riddle." She crossed her arms and glared at his audacity – didn't he know the meaning of Unbreakable?

"You must understand Tom, wanting to break a Soul bond is extremely insulting not to mention impossible. Perhaps if done before reaching maturity its effects wouldn't be too adverse. However, there simply is not enough known about them to even attempt such a thing."

"So no one's tried?" Tom pondered aloud.

Padma felt a rush of anger – why was he so intent on breaking it? Shouldn't she be the one trying to break the bond? This little twit was acting as though she was some diseased vermin – as though the very thought that she was his other Half was enough to make his skin break out in boils. She couldn't remember the very last time someone had been so ineffably rude – it was well known in the Wizarding World that breaking a Soul bond meant nothing less than death for at least one of the Matched. When Dumbledore glanced her way, Padma forced herself into a calm façade. It wouldn't do if she just got angry – he was ignorant of Soul bonds, after all. And she herself probably only knew little more than he did. Padma sighed, here she was twenty-five and bonded to an eleven-year-old of all people! Maybe that explained why she had de-aged, perhaps it was the magic of the arch ensuring that she was the same age as her Match. As irritating as it was, Padma was rather glad for the convenience – it would have been much, _much_ worse if she had stayed her original age.

"There was never really a reason to attempt such a separation. Soul bonding has been well-known to increase the potential of the two Bonded and the bond will only grow stronger until your magical cores stabilize."

"Professor, when do you think that our . . . Bond will reach maturity?" Padma inquired.

He stroked his beard, "I'm not quite sure. We would need a healer to fully diagnose the state of the bond but I suppose that the Bond should reach maturity when the both of you reach the age of twenty-three."

"Sir, earlier you mentioned there were consequences. Could you please elaborate?" Tom's tea was relatively untouched and turning quite cold.

Dumbledore went into deep thought as he carefully worded his reply, "There have been some speculation about Soul bonds – in fact, many today would argue that such a thing isn't possible. It was said in the beginning of Time, wizards used such bonds to produce powerful and viable heirs to protect their kingdoms as well as their bloodlines. Some say that once the two are Bonded, then the usual limits for a wizard become nearly nonexistent since a truly powerful union has the ability to allow you to draw on each other's magic." Dumbledore shook his head before adding, "But I must remind you that much of this is just speculation, historians are no longer certain of when such Bonds were created or for what purpose."

Tom sat quietly in contemplation absorbing the information given to him while Padma looked around what she believed was Tom's room. It was painfully plain – even hers back home had been decorated with books and pictures. It felt impersonal, almost as though this wasn't his room to begin with (and it seemed to imply that it wouldn't be his for much longer). This struck Padma as odd – maybe he was just boring? But something about this room just didn't add up for her, making her believe that she was missing something terribly important.

Abruptly, as though he finally realized a missing detail, Tom coldly asked, "Where did she come from?"

"Miss Agarwal is accompanying us to Diagon Alley where the both of you will obtain supplies. She was instructed to wait for me," Dumbledore looked at her with a politely reprimanding glance, "but it seemed she was a _tad_ too excited."

Padma bit her lip; Dumbledore was a much better liar than she had ever thought. Tom didn't flinch at the way Dumbledore avoided the question and didn't comment on it.

"I thought you said that it was illegal to do magic outside of school?" His face was extremely cold. Padma involuntarily shivered when she realized that his stare was trained on her and not the elder wizard.

"Miss Agarwal is new to this country. Her homeland is much more lenient concerning underage magic. But I can assure you that Miss Agarwal will be appropriately reminded that such behavior will not be tolerated here." Padma flushed, fully looking the part of a scolded child.

Tom, thankfully, looked mollified and turned his steely gaze on her. Padma, refusing to shrink, met his gaze full on without flinching.

"I will inform Mrs. Cole of your decision Tom. Please pack your things; you will accompany us to Diagon Alley where I will obtain rooms for the three of us." Dumbledore got up and exited the room quietly, leaving the two young wizards.

Padma silently watched Tom turn to the dresser with his back towards her. She couldn't see what he was doing exactly; she leaned back into her chair and let out a soft sigh. She found herself staring at him and unsure what to make of him – he was strange that was for sure. He was cold almost calculating in his gaze; he seemed years older than merely eleven. He was intelligent but had an attitude that made her blood boil – it was as though he was used to being superior to the people who surrounded him. It lent him an air of arrogance that grated her nerves, making her frown. He was exactly the type that she usually loathed – the arrogant, insufferable gits who believed the world belonged to them simply because they _inherited_ it. But unlike those other twits, there was a certain confidence that followed him – it wasn't merely ignorant arrogance but rather a cool understanding that he was simply different from everyone else and _that_ was why he was superior.

She watched him closely as he gathered up some miscellaneous items and shoved them in his pockets – quickly leaving the room after shutting the drawer.

Padma was left alone with her wits.

* * *

**Special thanks to Fire The Canon, Sikanda, and Felix02.**

**[Edit: 10/5/2013]**


	3. Potestas

**Padma has met her Match – yet something is off about him.**

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE: Potestas (Power)**

_A lotus will survive where the others will not._

_Year One_

* * *

Tom was quiet – that much was horrendously obvious. Dumbledore would occasionally attempt to get the youngsters to converse but neither took the bait. Tom would politely brush off his questions while Padma would only answer with a curt nod or shake of the head. But for all of their self-imposed silences, the pair couldn't contain their excitement once they caught their first glimpse of Diagon Alley.

Padma's eyes wandered, drinking in the familiar and the not-so-familiar. For Tom, however, this was merely validation that he was different, that he was extraordinary, that he was a wizard. Dumbledore, despite his early wariness towards the boy, couldn't help but chuckle at the wideness of his eyes. Padma's excitement was much more contained – mostly because she had experienced magic before but there was also a bitter twinge to her joy. This was not the Diagon Alley of home and it was merely a sick caricature that reminded her that she was so close yet so far away from where she truly belonged.

But there were some sights that made her feel reassured like Gringotts Wizarding Bank which looked virtually untouched and a much newer looking Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions (though that particular shop brought a sharp pang as it reminded her of Parvati) which, for some reason, was on the wrong side of the street.

Peculiarly, both Tom and Padma had been able to convince Dumbledore to allow them wait for him in Flourish and Blotts as he attended to some business at Gringotts. She kept a close eye on Tom as she watched him browse through various sections – Padma herself had stayed rather close to the Arithmancy and Ancient Runes section of store if only by force of habit. For some reason she felt rather pleased by the Tom's desire to enter the bookstore, she had been rather sure that he would become smitten with the brooms displayed in the window at Quality Quidditch Supplies like rest of the other young males.

Dumbledore arrived soon enough but his return sparked an odd dispute between the great wizard and Tom. The younger was peeved that he would not be allowed to buy the books used by the second-years nor was he allowed to purchase the more advanced Dark Arts books. Padma had felt a cold chill creep up her spine despite the fact that the glare was not fixed on her – but soon enough the tense moment passed and Tom returned back to his distant but polite self. They spent the majority of the afternoon at Madam Malkin's much to the combined displeasure of the two students.

Madam Malkin had predictably begun cooing over Tom's handsomely boyish features while Padma irritably fidgeted as a young shop hand took her measurements. It wasn't that she didn't like buying new clothing but she didn't liked being prodded and poked like some sort of caged creature – that and she had had enough of Madam Malkin stroking Tom's ego. He had been insufferably polite throughout the encounter but Padma knew well enough now that it was all a lie. He had been probing the older witch about information – Hogwarts, politics or basically anything and everything about the Wizarding World. Padma supposed that it wasn't all that unusual since he had been raised by Muggles but there was something unsettling about his gaze and how his expressions would change when the older witch's back was turned.

She had felt rather disappointed that they would be getting their wands tomorrow rather than today. Dumbledore had explained that he didn't want to overwhelm them but Padma had a sneaking suspicion that he felt that the longer he put off Tom getting a wand the better. They ate a quiet meal in the Leaky Cauldron and Padma noted that the food was just as bad as she remembered it. The landlord was someone she didn't know. The bar felt rather dingy but then she remembered that Hannah, a Hufflepuff, had later redecorated when she became landlady in Padma's time.

Diagon Alley had been rather disorienting for her since it seemed so similar but it was definitely different from the one she was accustomed to. She had noticed that the trio had been gifted with quite a few stares but she was glad that most of them were directed towards Dumbledore than her. Frequently, they would be stopped because a wizard claiming to be a 'friend' of Dumbledore would venture up and shake his hand, attempting to talk pleasantries. Dumbledore had made it clear that they would not be receiving their wands without his supervision and stressed that they stayed inside their rooms until he called for them. Padma had nodded at his instructions but she felt as though Tom was merely politely listening.

She later spent the night drifting in and out of consciousness – half planning and half crying herself to sleep. For all of the Department of Mysteries' eccentricities, she remembered when she had been given some sound advice by the department head on her first day as an Unspeakable. At time she thought he was a few knuts short of a Galleon but now – now, she was certain that he had known this would happen someday or another.

* * *

The department head was a tall man – tall and thin like those Muggle street lights – with a dark complexion and an even darker set of eyes. Despite his youthful physique, his face appeared ancient as it was decorated with wrinkles and liver spots. While he wasn't a cross man, he wasn't jovial either. There was a seriousness in his mannerisms and speech that should never be overlooked – even when he was spouting nonsense like re-animation and time-travel and alternate universes. He was clean shaven – not a strand on his head except for those few sparse patches above his eyes. Hakim Hadad was not a man to be underestimated nor was he someone easily dismissed.

"Miss Patil," His voice was raspy as though it hurt his throat to allow the sound to escape. He was seated behind an impressive desk made of cherry (like his wand, she believed) and there were odd newspaper clippings scattered around his office. Books lined his walls and paper airplanes zoomed in and out of the door with frequent occurrence.

"Sir," She had been hesitant but cautious. Padma had heard rather strange things about the department – not necessarily bad but not necessarily good either – there was a rumor that all of the workers eventually went mad. There was another that stated that all workers were required to be regularly checked by healers at St. Mungo's.

"I have been the head of this department for quite some time but in all my years I have never met someone so _qualified_," He coughed the words out – an unfamiliar emotion coating them as they left his mouth.

"Sir?" Padma had frowned, wondering whether her skills were a bad thing. She often been told that she was a shoo-in for this position but she was starting to believe otherwise.

"I have seen things that you would never believe but now is neither the time nor the place to discuss them. I must reiterate that our job as Unspeakables is to primarily observe, Miss Patil. Many wizards have meddled with the Natural Order of Things and I daresay it would be foolish to say the same won't happen in the future. Our work, our job, and our duty is to _observe_ – interfering and taking action is the job of those blights they call Aurors. I will not tolerate _any_ wizard that would attempt to abuse the information they gather here at the Department of Mysteries for their own selfish reasons. Is this understood?" The wrinkles surrounding his eyes sharpened.

Padma had gulped at his tone but she nodded nonetheless.

"But above all, Miss Patil, you must never disrupt the Natural Order of Things. The consequences would be monumental."

* * *

She arose quite early the next morning; she had always been an early riser – it had always been Parvati who needed the extra little push to get up out of bed. Padma liked to watch the sunrise on occasion and thoroughly enjoyed the tranquility that accompanied one. Padma had been really happy that she had some robes to change into – the clothing that she had worn yesterday was horribly ill fitting and she noted the strange looks she had been given though she doubted anyone suspected she was from the future. They probably ignorantly believed that such dress was normal from wherever she came from; then again, the Wizarding World was known for its rather bizarrely dressed inhabitants.

She had sworn to herself that she wouldn't meddle in this time – she would keep to herself and not draw any unwanted attention. Hopefully she would graduate quietly and find the artefact when it came into Muggle London and use it as a way home. But there were certain facts that she needed to straighten out first. The first question was how the artefact had actually worked. She had come now to understand that the artefact would transport someone to their Match but why did it send it her when he was only eleven – why not when he was twenty-five? The second question was why. Why did the artefact work now when it was inactive for all that time in the vault? What had caused the change? The only prevailing possibility was the necklace her mother had given her. But that was preposterous; the artefact's design clearly showed that it required the fourth jewel of heaven, the _Syamantak Mani_. But she knew for a resounding fact that the stone around her neck _wasn't_ the ruby in question.

Padma sighed; she had about seven years to wonder about the bloody thing until she had the slightest chance of returning home. Yes, it was decided then, she would live at Hogwarts quietly and not form any meaningful attachments to anyone while there.

Unfortunately the only problem in her simple plan was sleeping right next door. While Padma didn't necessarily have anything against Tom (though he could be a right twit and sometimes he just plain perturbed her), there was the matter of the Soul bond – there was a reason why it was called the Unbreakable bond very much similar to the Unbreakable vow. It tied their magic together and she was unsure of what the effect would be should she return back to her own time. There was a possibility that she would lose her magic forever seeing as it was heavily tied to him.

There had been stories that the couple that were Bonded had to be constantly together – this was simply false and untrue. In the twenty-four hours that Padma had known Tom, she hadn't felt the slightest inclination to stay near him nor did she ever feel the urge to touch him at any moment. Though, she relented, perhaps the effects were felt at a much larger distance.

She gently rested her head against the headboard as she felt the waves of melancholy sweep over her.

The morning wasn't much better, in Padma's opinion, since she probably looked like a Banshee – without a comb, her dark hair was much more difficult to wrestle into a decent braid. At least today Dumbledore had promised that the three of them would go shop for wands at the famous Ollivanders Wand Shop. Maybe then she would be able to perform some simple beauty charms that should hopefully calm her hair.

The trio arrived at the shop fairly early in the morning; Padma's lip was curled in displeasure when she first caught sight of Tom – his hair impeccably well-groomed and neat. Although his state of dress was rather second-hand, he did well with what he had. He wore his clothes as though he was the son of an emperor – not like an abandoned orphan. Padma supposed that she should have felt pity when she learned that the building she had magically appeared in was Wool's Orphanage but she couldn't bring herself to do it. His earlier comment about breaking the bond as well as his cold, aloof attitude rather put her off. She had been thankful that he didn't ask her any more questions after the initial interrogation; she didn't want to lie any more than was absolutely necessary. The more lies she spun, the more likely it would be for her to become caught in one.

The shop itself looked relatively the same, though the inside was slightly different. The usual thin layer of dust that coated the inside was gone but there were the same narrow boxes lining the walls. Padma had been surprised to see _two_ others in the shop – an older gentleman and a young man who looked barely out of his teens. The young man had been waving his wand around – likely using Household charms to clean up the dust while the older man was attending to a large ledger, using a quill to denote transactions and make calculations. There were small spectacles adorning the man's long face which was rather wrinkle-free save for a few stubborn ones around his eyes. His hand movements were efficient and youthful but the slight paunch around his midsection spoke volumes of his true age.

"Ah, Albus, surely you haven't broken another one of my wands?" The older gentleman didn't smile as he firmly shut the book before him.

Dumbledore had the decency to look a tad guilty at the accusation, "Worry not, Gervaise. I'm merely accompanying these two students to pick out their first wands."

"Quite the wondrous occasion," the older gentleman gave a half-smile, "the first wand is always special and always important." He peered closer at Padma and Tom, as though scrutinizing them with his beady, unsettling eyes. Padma found herself missing the Ollivander that she remembered – Garrick Ollivander had been the one to find her first wand.

"This is Mr Tom Riddle and this young lady here is Miss Anala Agarwal," Dumbledore introduced them but Ollivander didn't offer his offer his hand, though he continued to survey them.

He gave a slight nod at the introduction before abruptly asking, "Any preference on the cores?"

"The cores, sir?" Tom frowned, not familiar with the terminology.

"The core, my boy, is the essence of magic that makes a wand what it is. Not even the greatest of sorcerers could possibly use a mere piece of wood to meet their own ends. There are a wide variety of cores, each with different properties and advantages. Though Garrick here is certain that there are only three cores that any respectable wandmaker should use," Gervaise gave a withering look to the teenager who was busying himself with the boxes.

"Is that so?" An amused Dumbledore chuckled.

"Unfortunately, I've got to run an errand at the bank – my son Garrick is more than qualified to help you with your purchases."

With that the slightly pudgy man left the small shop, after hoisting his coat over his shoulders.

Garrick, Padma noted, was much younger though his eyes still had the same look of wisdom that she could remember in her time stream. Much like his father, the older teen looked at the youngsters with curious eyes.

Padma had been the first to pick her wand and, despite Tom's silence, she had a feeling that he was resenting her for it. Padma wasn't sure what to expect from this expenditure since her last visit had been rather straight-forward. Her old wand had been made of pine with a dragon heartstring core – extremely different to Parvati's elm and unicorn hair. Initially she had been worried – what if she accidently took the wand that was meant for her in the future? What if she took someone else's wand which would ultimately lead to a chain of events that would undoubtedly change the future?

Padma was sweating profusely, her throat clogged dry with the possibilities her mind spun, as Ollivander continued to make tutting noises under his breath. Boxes were starting to pile up as each wand refused to give the desired result. She glanced at Dumbledore for anything – reassurance, perhaps – but the old codger was merely smiling. Tom looked fascinated but also a bit peeved that she was taking so long.

"Hmm," Ollivander murmured, "Perhaps if we try the – yes, I believe so."

He then ventured to the back of the shop, out of sight, and Padma allowed herself to exhale. Her agitation was clearly written on her face.

"Is it possible for someone to be so thick that they don't have a wand?" Tom wondered aloud with a smirk on his face.

Padma was too preoccupied to snap at him.

"Here we are: 12 ½" beech wood with a peacock feather." Ollivander opened the box, revealing the pale yet elegant wand lying upon light blue satin.

"Peacock feather?" Padma frowned slightly, thoroughly confused.

"Yes," Ollivander nodded, "Father bought several from a strange merchant claiming to be descended from the Queen of Sheba – though we've been hard-pressed to find owners for these beautiful wands. This is the last one, nearly missed it since the rest had been shipped out to Yemen."

Padma hesitantly touched the wand, fully believing that the beautiful wand couldn't possibly want her since she prized practicality and function over mere vanity. Strangely enough, a warm glow entered her fingers as brilliant colors such as rich blues and greens shot out the end in complex designs.

A slow smile worked its way across Padma's face until she broke out in a full grin.

Dumbledore and Ollivander both clapped while Padma awarded them with a clumsy curtsy. She briefly glanced at Tom whose face was indiscernible – an emotion crossed his dark eyes but Padma couldn't be sure what it was.

She also asked for a hollister to hold her wand, not wanting to lose another wand like she had her previous one. She had never felt so vulnerable without the piece of wood at her side – and was rather glad that she had found a new replacement despite all of the added anxieties that came along with it.

Tom's wand had taken a while as well; Ollivander had flutted around the shelves with a thoughtful look on his face. Dumbledore had an unreadable look on his face that became more and more disturbed as the session continued. Padma had noticed that the older warlock always seemed uneasy whenever the younger boy was concerned – at first Padma had thought it was because of Tom's arrogance but there was something else that wasn't quite adding up. She wasn't quite sure why he seemed so apprehensive about Tom and magic – and she wasn't really sure if it was her business to know.

"Curious," Ollivander stated, "very curious indeed."

Tom didn't frown but the curve of his lip seemed harder – sharper, even. Padma couldn't help but want to reassure him of his anxiety before jolting at the thought. Why would she ever want to reassure him when all he had done was try to exacerbate her own worry?

The thought made her brow furrow – it seemed the Bond was trying to poison her mind. She internally rolled her eyes. Tom may have been a twit but she suspected him to have been lonely at the orphanage since it seemed everyone (including the adults) avoided him. In fact, Mrs. Cole seemed almost glad that he was leaving!

Padma knew more about the Muggle world than most of her peers who had been raised in magic (this was mostly due to the insistence of one of their uncles, a Muggleborn and respected member of the family) since the Patil family believed in allowing their children to attend Muggle primary schools – mostly due to their knowledge that some of their children may be Squibs and they wanted them to at least have the advantage of knowing they could pursue other things (though most didn't leave the Magical world anyways). There was also the fact that there were quite a few Muggle members of family and, unlike the English pureblood families, the Patils understood the Muggle world and believed that intelligence and hardwork was the key to success while magic was merely another tool to that end. Padma had spent most of her early life in a school near Birmingham while she spent the holidays learning about magic in India. It gave her a sort of dual citizenship that few besides the Muggleborns could ever achieve. And Padma knew that the Muggle world wasn't especially kind to orphans, she couldn't even imagine how it was in the 1940s.

"Perhaps this one: 13 ½" yew with a – with a phoenix feather as its core," There was a slight tremor in Ollivander's voice as he eagerly watched Tom pick up the wand.

The result was simultaneous – boxes flew off the shelves in rapid succession with a mere flick of Tom's wrist while a glow was streaming off of him in waves.

"Curious, indeed. Did you know the phoenix that provided that feather is the Familiar of Dumbledore himself?" Ollivander smiled.

"Really, professor?" Tom asked quietly.

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. He quietly paid for the both of them and, as they left, Ollivander sounded a fond farewell at the trio. The rest of the outing was spent gathering supplies for their Potions class as Dumbledore chatted with the respective shop owners. They passed the Magical Menagerie without entering after Dumbledore proposed that it would best if they waited until their second or third year before acquiring a Familiar, stating that if they ever needed an owl they could use one of the school's.

Padma spent the next few days in her room – not leaving unless it was for meals. She supposed that she should have kept a better eye on Tom since Dumbledore had left two eleven-year-old wizards alone and unsupervised. Though she doubted that Tom was the sort to get caught – she didn't doubt that he _was_ sort to get into trouble, he just had that look about him. That unsteady, shifty look about him that made him unpredictable – made him dangerous. Although Dumbledore explicitly told them not to practice magic until they reached Hogwarts, Padma knew it wouldn't stop Tom from exploring more. Tom saw the magical world as a dying man viewed an oasis in the desert – it was the closest to Paradise that he had ever experienced.

Padma, on the other hand, kept her head down. She knew she didn't need to read the first year textbooks – she had felt oddly confident about her magical ability despite traveling sideways in time and acquiring a new wand. It wasn't arrogance, per se, but a calming reassurance that she was still the same witch she had been before. Although she wasn't identical to her original self – the wand and the Soul Bond were rather large indicators – she took comfort that things weren't changing too fast. There was the worry about the Sorting, however, that took her nerves on a ride. The possibility of being Sorted in any other house besides Ravenclaw should have struck her as preposterous – but Padma was practical, rational and, above all, reasonable.

If she was to accomplish her goal of lying low, Hufflepuff would be her best choice. No one looked twice at a 'Puff, after all. Gryffindor would only get her into trouble, she suspected. They were awfully nosy, that lot. Ravenclaws, though inquisitive, usually turned a blind eye to eccentricities – except, perhaps, in the case of Luna Lovegood. Slytherin was an entirely different can of worms – they would want to know of her heritage and breeding with a fervor distinct from the rest of the houses. And from what she gleaned from the magical community from her trips down Diagon Alley, bigotry was still widely popular. Her family, despite its ancient magical lineage, had always been distant to the other pureblood families. They were not pariahs by any chance – they were still invited to balls and the occasional wedding – but they were not welcomed at any rate. She could only imagine her reception now when blood purity fanatics were still commonplace.

No – her best bet would be with Hufflepuff, and possibly her former house Ravenclaw. Gryffindor wouldn't be all that bad but Slytherin was definitely out of the question. She had heard rumors that sometimes the Sorting Hat allowed students to choose – an option that Padma had never received since the choice had always been clear to her. Padma sighed as she wondered if the black feeling in her stomach would ever truly go away.

* * *

Special thanks to: **Fire The Canon, DGfleetfox, **and **Felix02.**

Just finished the outline for the story which clocked in at about 2K+ which is just general plot notes. So at least now, I'll never have to worry about running out of ideas because I have the entire plot already. I thought I should address some general questions.

_**Will there be a time-skip?**_

_This story will encompass all seven years at Hogwarts but the supposed "romance" doesn't really start until perhaps their fifth year. I always felt that Tom wouldn't be one to be so affectionate to a stranger and that it would take time for him to actually act on his desires. I never understand why in most Tom-centric stories that the romance starts mere months (sometimes even weeks or even days) after the first meeting. There will be a few time-skips, mostly glossing over the first years but the later years should go into further detail._

_**Why doesn't Padma know Tom is Lord Voldemort?**_

_I'm working with the idea that the general public didn't know Lord Voldemort's alias (and since Padma doesn't have a stable connection with the Golden Trio, this includes her). I'm also assuming that the M.O.M. would keep certain facts about the war to themselves – like Lord Voldemort's real name (much like the government files of WWII that weren't released until much later). But that doesn't mean that Padma won't figure it out - she is a Ravenclaw, after all. There will be subtle hints throughout the plot that will alert her to the truth._

_**This quick update was due to the fact that I've discovered that I've essentially created a new pairing. LES is the only Tom/Padma story tagged on Fanfiction and probably the rest of the internet.**_

_**Please don't forget to review!**_

**[Edit: 10/5/13]**


	4. Domus

**A new wand and the beginning of a promising plan, where could she go wrong?**

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR: Domus (Home)**

_The lotus will survive – but at a price._

_Year One_

* * *

Padma wasn't all too surprised when Dumbledore told them that they would have to go to King's Cross by themselves – he had left them mostly unsupervised for nearly three days and she was beginning to see that it was sort of a pattern. Maybe he was just insanely trusting of the world or of them – but it rubbed her the wrong way. Didn't the old bat know that letting two children – not to mention two _under_-aged wizards – wander around London was not a Good idea? Who would have thought that one of the greatest wizards of all time was so gormless?

She had let Tom deal with acquiring a taxi as she looked around Muggle London. It looked quite different from the one she could remember – telephone boxes were scattered around as double-decker buses passed her frequently. The cars were old-fashioned (though she supposed that because of the era she was in, they were modern by all accounts) and she was fascinated. Tom seemed quite adept at moving around in the city and around or through the crowds. Padma also knew that the blighter often wandered away from her and if she hadn't already known the location of King's Cross and the platform like the back of her hand, she was almost certain she would have gotten lost. Though, he occasionally glanced over his shoulder just to make sure that she was keeping up. Padma supposed that even he didn't want to explain to Dumbledore how he managed to lose her in Muggle London – especially since she was _supposedly_ a foreigner.

"I've asked a guard about Platform 9 ¾, but he merely questioned if I was feeling alright." Tom scowled as Padma leaned against her trunk that was placed on the trolley. She bit her lip, quietly wondering how she could direct Tom to the platform without revealing how much she really knew. Both their trunks were placed on the trolley as Tom was deep in thought (probably about the platform); Padma watched people pass them by.

Her answer was presented in the form of a family of blonds passing through the familiar metal ticket box with a plainly dressed guard standing by. Padma carefully tugged Tom's sleeve (not wanting another magical Soul bond incident), somehow managing to force him to push the trolley as she directed him to the metal ticket box.

"What are you –" the boy began to demand as Padma picked up speed, he was about to pull away when they finally passed through the magical barrier, both stumbling a bit when Padma quickly let go of his arm. From her peripheral vision, Padma noticed Tom looking about and smirked when he gazed at the gleaming Hogwarts Express.

She had been heavily tempted to ditch Tom and find an empty compartment where she could just sit and stew in her thoughts. Unfortunately, it was at this time that Tom actually made an effort to appear courteous as he helped her get her trunk onto the train and followed her diligently through the carriages. When it became apparent that he had no intention of letting her out of his sights, Padma quietly shuffled into a _thankfully_ empty compartment and made herself comfortable. Tom closed the door slowly, his eyes never leaving hers and Padma felt her pulse quicken just a tad. While she doubted that Tom could actually hurt her since he seemed to be above petty bullying, there was a certain darkness about him that made her pause.

Padma blinked out of her stupor – she had faced down Death Eaters, she had been a member of Dumbledore's Army, she was an Unspeakable and, first and foremost, she was a witch! Sod it all if she was going to let some eleven-year-old boy intimidate her. Silence reigned for quite some time until Padma could hear the faint whistling from the outside, signaling the departure to Hogwarts. Padma sat primly on the seat, she was still a bit uncomfortable with the knee-length skirt underneath her black robes but she kept her composure. Tom sat across from her, studying her but refusing to speak.

Just when Padma was about to break into the books she had purchased at Diagon Alley, he chose to speak.

"How did you know the way onto the platform?" His eyes full of suspicion.

Padma shrugged, "I saw a few wizards pass through – I figured that they would keep the entrance hidden so Muggles wouldn't get curious."

He paused as though contemplating his next words.

"You will not tell anyone what you know about me."

It was a demand – a firm, inflexible command – that was backed by his icy gaze. Padma had to scoff; of all the things he could be worried about, he was concerned about her blabbing his origins to the rest of school. Did he think she was some kind of loose-lipped floozy? Padma had never been the kind for an ear for gossip _that_ was more Parvati's domain. But she also saw this as an opportunity, she had long become a rather shrewd negotiator when it came to her twin and despite the fact that she had no intentions of revealing his background to anyone else, _he_ didn't know that – she could play this to her own advantage.

Padma cocked her head briefly to one side. "I will agree on one condition."

If it was possible, Tom seemed to stiffen even further. His already rigid stance became practically immobilized. Padma had to suppress a smirk though her hands were fiddling with her robes – Padma knew she shouldn't be intimidated by him but the black feeling that had manifested since their Bond had been growing. She didn't trust him one bit.

"Name your price," He said through gritted teeth as though the very fact that he was admitting to the debt physically pained him.

Padma rolled her eyes. "I seek nothing of monetary value, Riddle. Consider it as a compromise for mutual interests. I will not speak of your past and you will not question me about mine."

There had always been a niggling feeling in Padma's mind that warned her that Tom knew much more than he really let on. There was a threateningly morbid curiosity in his eyes when Dumbledore spoke of the Soul Bond and its consequences. Intuitively, she knew that Tom hadn't swallowed Dumbledore's lie so easily – there was a part of him that wanted to know the truth.

A dark look crossed his eyes but it soon passed when his expression became sickly sweet. Confused, Padma was about to comment when the compartment door opened.

"Have you seen a toad, by chance?" A boy (around their age) stuttered; he was blond and rather short. Nervousness seemed to roll off him in waves and Padma felt like she had seen him somewhere before.

Wordlessly, the pair shook their heads. The boy visibly slumped before apologizing, "Oh. W-well then, I'm sorry for interrupting – um . . . I'm Conan Fudge."

_Fudge_, Padma blinked, _as in related to the ex-Prime Minister Fudge?_

"Tom Riddle." Riddle cast a charming smile towards the boy who timidly took the proffered hand.

The boy turned his gaze to Padma who soon realized that she had forgotten to introduce herself. She mumbled, "Anala Agarwal."

She had stiffened slightly when Fudge took her hand and kissed her knuckles rather than merely shaking the outstretched appendage. From the amused look in Tom's eyes, Padma assumed that Fudge's behavior was not exactly prevalent in this particular time period. She smiled nervously at the gesture, nonetheless.

"Miss Agarwal, is this your first time in Great Britain?" Fudge asked.

Padma, who wanted nothing else but to be left alone with her books, merely replied, "It's not my first, but I haven't visited in quite some time." Her statement was mostly true – she had lived in London just not when they thought she had.

Unfortunately, Fudge took her behavior as an invitation to sit and talk about his summer home in the countryside as he began to fill her ear with nonsensical drivel. She had cast a sly glance at Riddle who buried his nose behind a book after sending a clear look that was best described as '_deal with the twit yourself_'.

Thankfully, her reprieve came in the form of an elderly witch who pushed the trolley carrying various sweets. It wasn't the same witch from her own years; no, this witch looked sharper but she still seemed cheerful – at least on the surface. Fudge had eagerly given the witch his pocket money for a handful of chocolate frogs. While Fudge was rather timid, he did seem rather generous when he gave both her and Tom a chocolate frog. Tom had seemed slightly surprised by the idea of food acting like an animal but he had been more interested in the cards.

"Who'd you get, Tom?" Tom flinched at the use of his name but Fudge didn't notice.

"Salazar Slytherin," He calmly replied.

"You've got one of the founders! That's actually fairly rare," Fudge scowled, "I got Agrippa – I've got loads of 'im. What about you, Miss . . ."

"Ana. You can call me Ana, if you want," Padma quickly interjected, not wanting to hear him butchering the surname for the umpteenth time.

Fudge's eyes widened and he broke into a toothy smile, "Who'd you get, Ana?"

"Bridget Wenlock," Padma smiled despite the oblivious look on Fudge's face, "She was a famous Arithmancer. She's my idol, actually."

Fudge filled up the rest of the journey with idle chatter as Padma frequently sent masked looks of exasperation his way (and to Tom, since he was smirking like a right git). He seemed to be the bumbling sort but he was rather good-hearted and he obviously meant well. Padma also suspected that he was a bit lonely – probably due to the fact that he was the youngest child and that his siblings had already graduated Hogwarts. He struck her as a bit of a Hufflepuff, a hard worker and an honest person though his eager-to-please attitude grated on her nerves.

Thankfully, Fudge left the compartment to change into his robes when a wandering prefect told them they were almost at their destination. The resulting quiet felt like a godsend as Padma sighed and leaned her head back into the plush seat. She could practically hear Tom's silent sniggering even though when she cracked an eye open, his face was as calmly polite as always. She could tell, however, from the look in his eyes that he was laughing at her.

"Shut it, Riddle," Padma grumbled as she twisted her attention to the window. His expression was still hidden from behind the textbook but his dark eyes told the truth.

"It's your fault for charming the oaf, Miss Agarwal."

"Charming?" Padma scowled, "All I did was smile at him."

Tom was about to comment when the whistle began to blow – they had finally arrived.

Instead of a half-giant, the first years were greeted by a man sporting prosthetic limbs. Missing one and a half of his legs as well as one of his arms, he was quite the formidable sight. Padma was reminded of Mad-Eye Moody since the man had the same crazed animal look. His entire appearance screamed 'dangerously scruffy', like a rabid stray you pass in the alleys of a dark city. As Padma glanced around she noticed that most of the first years were trembling as though they had heard of the man before and this knowledge warranted fearful caution.

"I am Professor Kettleburn of Care of Magical Creatures. We will be using the boats to cross the Black Lake. I would, however, advise not to fall in – the Giant Squid tends to get a bit peckish," His gravelly voice sounded over the whispers. Padma could hear Fudge gulping even though he was at least a metre away.

They were divided into pairs – Padma found herself accompanied by a blonde with long, straight hair. She reminded her a bit of Luna except she didn't have the same dreamy gaze about her. The girl's face was all sharp angles despite her young age – pointy cheekbones and an equally pointy nose. Her face seemed too mature to be on such a childishly short body. Her bright eyes shined, reflecting the soft, yellow glow of the lanterns.

She offered her hand. "I'm Mildred MacDougal."

_Morag's relative? _A pang struck Padma's heart – Morag had been one of her roommates and had been a rather good friend.

"Anala Agarwal. Call me Ana, please."

The two witches smiled as they both exchanged a firm handshake.

It was a beautiful sight – just as beautiful as she remembered. The boats, the lanterns, even the castle was the same – it had been one of her favorite memories when she had been young. Viewing Hogwarts at night with the lanterns shining and refracting off the surface of the lake as the charmed boats swiftly carried them across. She had never felt so at peace before – it was almost as though she was being welcomed back. The familiar sight made Padma choke a little – feeling the unwanted rush of memories and emotion threaten to burst out of her throat.

Her fellow classmates were astonished as she could hear their quiet gasps of awe break the eerily silent ambience.

It was only when they were all gathered together that the whispers began again.

"How do you think we're Sorted?" A shy but tall boy asked. His robe fit him awkwardly as it seemed that he was all limbs.

"I dunno. Me dad said that we've got to slap a troll." A boy whispered back, his accent thick but his voice was still solemn. He was rather plump though his height guaranteed that his physical appearance would be classified as husky. There was an obvious tan to his face as though he spent most of his time outside but his weight seemed to imply a heavy dose of laziness.

There were snorts all around but there were also quite a few whimpers. For the most part, however, nearly all conversation stopped.

"_Please_!" A pushy, redhead rolled her eyes. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"You don't think that they're really gonna make us slap a troll, do ya, Ana?" Fudge almost shrieked, forcing several students to look in their direction.

Padma was amused if anything since she could remember a similar conversation occurring when she had first went through the Sorting herself. Bitter nostalgia filled her veins as she began to imagine her first Sorting, superimposing her classmates' faces on the bodies of these first-years – almost imagining for a moment that she was back in her own time, simply remembering a memory.

She rolled her eyes before dryly quipping, "Don't be daft, Fudge. Everyone knows you've got to duel a dragon."

"R-really?!" He squeaked.

Padma sighed. "No. Of course not. We're first years with little to no experience using magic. I doubt the Sorting is anything even remotely dangerous. In fact, the only thing we might have to worry about is how long the ceremony's going to take."

Thankfully, the boy who spoke about the troll went rather pink and nervous laughter filled the air. Padma's cool confidence seemed to be rubbing off on the others since the chatter began to pick up again.

"Come along," Professor Kettleburn's voice rasped, "single file, now – Oi! I said single file!"

The students were filed into the Great Hall – awestruck by the starry sky that was above them. Padma had always marveled at the magic in the Great Hall despite the fact that she had seen it for most of her school life in Hogwarts. Her mind had always buzzed, wondering how the Founders were able to work such complex magic to enchant the ceiling to look like the night's sky.

Instead of Professor Kettleburn calling out the names, it was Dumbledore who took hold of the long scroll. Padma took this time to look at who would be her instructors for the next seven years of her life. Sitting in the Headmaster's chair was a man with long, white hair though his beard was rather short. While he didn't have a stern look on him, he was rather serious and Padma suspected that he wasn't nearly as easygoing as the Deputy Headmaster. If she remembered correctly, his name was Armando Dippet. Seated on the table were various other wizards and witches. Beside the empty chair which probably belonged to Dumbledore, was a much younger looking Horace Slughorn. He had a sparse amount of straw-colored yellow atop of his head but his eyes were shining merrily with excitement – undoubtedly scoping out newcomers for his 'Slug Club'. Padma had never really been invited to any of his gatherings since her intelligence had always been overlooked because of Hermione Granger (not that she begrudged the girl in anyway) and her rather quiet demeanor. Parvati had told her the parties were alright, after attending one as Blaise Zabini's date. Dumbledore's voice soon brought her attention forward. The Sorting Hat began its song but Padma was too busy occupied with her surroundings to really hear anything noteworthy.

"Abbott, Henry."

"**Hufflepuff**!" The Hat shouted within seconds of being upon the boy's head.

The boy walked away looking rather pleased as the rest of Hufflepuffs cheered merrily. Padma's earlier anxiety came in full swing as she fretted about her House placement. How would her House placement affect the future? Was she making a mistake attending Hogwarts? Should she have done something else – perhaps done something different? What if – ?

"Agarwal, Anala."

Padma quietly swore, cursing her choice in an alias. It figured that she was be one of the first to be sorted, though she supposed it was a quiet blessing. Getting it over with seemed almost appealing when compared to the time she could have spent worrying needlessly.

Leisurely with an attitude that was much calmer than she really felt, Padma walked up to the stool and the Hat was placed on her head.

_Hufflepuff_, she quietly pleaded. _Please just put me in Hufflepuff. I don't want to draw attention._

**How peculiar. I've never really Sorted someone twice before. And a Soul bond! Peculiar, indeed. Hufflepuff, you say? Hmm, wouldn't you think that you'd be better suited elsewhere? Perhaps Gryffindor since I daresay it takes quite a bit of courage to travel in Time like you have.**

_Courage? _Padma scoffed, _More like reckless curiosity. I don't want to be noticed – I plan on biding my time quietly. Wait, how do you know I've traveled through Time? And about the Soul bond?_

**How Slytherin of you, **remarked the Hat, **only a true snake would try to hide amongst the badgers. And don't worry – I don't intend on revealing any of your other secrets to anyone. Unlike you **_**Beings**_**, my existence is not tied to the plane of Time – there are other rules that guide me.**

_S-slytherin? I thought I told you I didn't want to draw attention! If I get sorted into Slytherin, they're bound to ask questions! Rules? What sort of rules?_

**But Hufflepuff wouldn't suit you either – you have no intention of being loyal or forming true friendships do you? Self-preservation, **_**yet**_** another Slytherin trait. The same rules that brought you here, I suspect.**

_I'm doing this for the rest of the world! Everyone knows that horrible things can happen when you upset the Natural Order of Things. If I change things now, it could have drastic consequences in the future! Wait! _She paused,_ You know how I got here?_

**Then Gryffindor, obviously, since you've committed yourself to upholding what's Good and Just. And no, I do not know the details of your arrival but I understand the reason.**

Padma sighed; this conversation definitely wasn't how she imagined it to go.

_I suppose Gryffindor wouldn't be too bad. But why was I brought here? How do I get back?_

**But it would take great wisdom to be fully aware that I wouldn't give you the House you wanted. There have been many before you who have incorrectly assumed that I gave them the choice merely out of goodwill. I have allowed students to choose but only because I already **_**know**_** what they're going to choose. **The Hat paused before continuing. **Seeing as you've found yourself in this predicament because of curiosity, I suppose there's only one choice for you, isn't there? But beware my words, young traveler, Hogwarts is aware of the possible evil that has entered its halls but your presence is unexpected. Perhaps you can change what is to come . . .**

Padma gulped, unsure of what the Hat meant.

_But I'm not supposed to change anything! That would be upsetting the Natural Order of Things. Tell me how to get back!_

The Hat cackled. **Silly girl, did you really think you were sent here merely to observe? There are plans for you; it is much too early for you to leave now.**

_Plans? What plans!_

"**Ravenclaw!**" The Hat's voice boomed through the silent Great Hall.

_Wait! Tell me what you mean! _Padma mentally shrieked before the Hat was taken off her head.

_Bloody hat._ She scowled as she walked towards the familiar table, not noticing the stares or the cheers from her Housemates.

"Congrats," an older boy said as she was seated, "I think that's the longest I've ever seen."

"Four minutes and twenty-one seconds, hardly the record," A boy seated next to him stated as he arrogantly adjusted his wire-framed glasses, his skin was pale but his inky black hair had a nice sheen to it.

The other boy had auburn colored hair with light freckles dusting his cheeks. He seemed to be the friendly sort and only appeared to be a few years older than her.

"Name's Ignatius Prewett, though I'd rather you call me Iggy. Ignatius reminds me of my great-uncle."

"Tao Chang."

"Ana," She quietly murmured, still pondering over the Hat's words as she stared at the silverware.

"Don't mind Tao here. He's just a bit of a stiff but you'll get used to it," Iggy stated in a dramatically loud whisper, much to the frustration of his mate.

Padma bit back a smile, he reminded her a bit of someone she knew.

"MacDougal, Mildred."

A few moments later, the Hat answered, "**Ravenclaw!**"

Padma watched the Sorting, trying to match as many names to faces as possible. It wouldn't do if she messed up and accidently called someone by their descendant's name.

Mildred took the seat next to Padma, giving her a shy smile which Padma returned. The rest of the ceremony was rather fast until one particular name.

"Riddle, Tom."

For the first time in a while, Padma felt awfully curious. Maybe Tom would be sorted into Ravenclaw? He seemed extremely smart and had probably read most of their textbooks already. She doubted that he would be sorted into Hufflepuff – he didn't nearly trust enough nor did he seem inclined to be tolerant or kind. Gryffindor might be an odd fit as well since he seemed hardly concerned with being just, even though Padma figured he had a rather reckless side to him. Slytherin was a large possibility – he even reminded her of a snake as well except she doubted they would take to a Muggleborn very kindly.

Minutes passed and Padma began to wonder if her Sorting had taken this long. It reminded her a bit of Harry Potter's Sorting since Professor Dumbledore had the same thoughtful look on his face as he did at this Sorting. The Great Hall, previously silent, began to titter with whispers as they wondered about this particular first year.

"**Slytherin!**" The Hat boomed ominously.

"Seven minutes," Tao muttered as Iggy whistled lowly.

Tom's reception had been rather lackluster at the Slytherin table since it seemed that they didn't know what to make of his presence.

Eventually, the last student was Sorted and the Headmaster stood as he addressed the school. Padma mostly tuned out his speech since it sounded awfully dry and rehearsed. Thankfully, the food soon appeared magically on the dishes – much to the astonishment of a few Muggleborns seated a ways away.

Iggy ate rather greedily; his table manners were better than a certain Weasley but were still nothing to cough at.

"So, Ana, I take it that you're not from around these parts?" He asked (thankfully after swallowing).

"What makes you say that?" Padma asked as she cut up her chicken.

"Don't know too many Agiwulls around here. Are you a Muggleborn? Not that it really matters but –" Padma quirked an eyebrow when she noted that even Tao seemed to lean closer to listen in.

"Agarwal. And no, I'm not. Most of my family's back in India." Padma corrected.

"India? Have you ever been there?" He continued.

Padma was somehow able to direct Iggy's curiosity towards Mildred as she scoped out the people around. Most of them seemed rather familiar – no doubt ancestors or something but there quite a few that she didn't recognize.

"You want to be a Chaser?" Tao suddenly asked Mildred.

Padma glanced at Mildred who blushed. "Well, yeah. I've always played Quidditch with my brothers and cousins so I was hoping that I could try out."

"Good luck," Tao replied, snorting.

Padma snapped, "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It's just that the Captain's a right prick – that and first years aren't supposed to play, anyways." Tao immediately blinked, noting Padma's fierce gaze.

"Though, it'll probably make Professor Selwyn pretty happy – Ravenclaw's been pretty bad in Quidditch lately."

"Professor Selwyn?" Mildred asked.

"Selwyn's an alright bloke – he does Charms and he's the Head of Ravenclaw. Most of the girls fancy him 'cause he's good-looking and they like his hair." Iggy rolled his eyes at the last statement.

"Is that him over there?" Mildred didn't point but she gestured with her eyes.

Her gaze was directed towards a fair-headed man with striking green eyes. He had a gentle smile as he conversed with the witch seated next to him, his gaze shifting from her to the Ravenclaw table at appropriate intervals.

"He _is_ quite handsome," Mildred stated airily.

Padma couldn't help but smirk as she wondered if Mildred was as hopeless about love as Morag was.

She sniggered, "Watch out boys, someone's got a crush."

"Ana!" Mildred looked positively unsettled, "It's not proper."

Padma laughed openly, momentarily forgetting the circumstances.

Maybe things wouldn't be too bad.

* * *

Special thanks to: **Fire The Canon, Felix02, DGfleetfox, MickeyMonroe, artishumble, **and** pesuasion. **I wasn't expecting so many reviews for the last chapter but I'm really grateful!

**Please review. There will likely be another update by the end of this week.**

**[Edit: 10/8/2013]**


	5. Socius

**Wary of the Hat's words, Padma tentatively returns to a 'normal' routine.**

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE: Socius (Partner)**

_A lotus is a lotus; a snake is a snake._

_Year One_

* * *

Padma supposed that there were worse things than attending Hogwarts twice – Soul bonding with someone who seemed to be a young sociopath certainly still took first place – and her first week went rather smoothly. Although she had decided to attend as inconspicuous as possible – it seemed that fate had other ideas. Despite never raising her hand in class, Padma had made a bit of an impression on the staff and it was soon spread that she was some kind of know-it-all. Hiding her knowledge had been much harder than she had originally thought since it had been quite some time since she had been acquainted with the first-year curriculum.

Rumors spread that she was some kind of genius – others claimed that she was actually much older than eleven though she doubted anyone knew how close to the truth they actually were. She mostly rolled her eyes at the gossip since she could remember the same sort of things being said about Hermione Granger. The fact that she had a knack of answering the riddles presented by the bronze knocker, which guarded the Ravenclaw common room, had also given her some notoriety in her House.

Padma had always had a bit of an impatient streak in her – she really did blame Parvati for it – and she couldn't just stand waiting around for someone else to answer. The same problem had plagued her the last time she attended Hogwarts and caused her to vigorously learn riddles all through her first year. Though she was never as good as some (like Luna or Anthony Goldstein), as a Ravenclaw Prefect it was just expected of her to know the answer when no one else did.

There had also been the problem of getting to class on the first day of actual lessons. Padma knew it would be extremely suspicious if she found each class with relative ease while the rest of her peers struggled horrendously (one boy, a Gryffindor, had managed to show up only at the last five minutes to her Herbology class). She had found her answer by loudly asking a portrait for directions in front of a group of other first-years. She found that being in Hogwarts allowed her to believe her façade – that she actually believed that she _was_ Anala Agarwal and not just simply acting a role.

She didn't see Tom very often despite the fact that Ravenclaw shared History of Magic, Potions and Charms with the Slytherins. Whenever she did see him, she gifted him with a curt nod which he never returned, of course. Padma supposed that his lack of reaction was supposed to bother her – that it was supposed to deter her from continuing the action but there was something compelling her to do so. She had the feeling that the rest of Slytherin house was openly ignoring him (if they weren't antagonizing him). Though she only knew Tom Riddle for just two weeks, Padma got the feeling that ignoring him was just as bad as openly being rude.

She hadn't realized how much time she spent staring at him until Mildred brought it to her attention in the second week of school.

"Someone's been staring!" She sang in a sing-song voice, one day during dinner. The pair was seated next to Iggy and Tao again as well as Alice Grey, a fellow first-year. Alice was a Muggleborn who happened to room with both Padma and Mildred.

"Staring? Who?" Alice echoed with a devious smile curled onto her face.

Padma sighed, glaring at the two giggling girls. The three had become fast friends despite the fact that Padma was still trying to comprehend the idea of female friends that weren't her sister's. Back home, she had always found it easier to hang out with the boys since all the girls ever wanted to do was to discuss makeup and, of course, _boys_. It wasn't that Padma didn't enjoy girl talk but she did prefer substantial conversation over mere vapid gossip unlike her sister who probably was the ringleader of the school's grape vine back in their day. Alice and Mildred were different – both were passionate about learning even though they had their own preferences. Mildred had a gift for Charms while Alice loved History of Magic (despite that Binns was such a bore). It had also helped that neither questioned her too deeply about her past, each respecting her privacy even though she knew that they did want to know more about her.

She knew that it probably wasn't wise to enter the friendships as freely as she had but she couldn't help it – she was lonely.

"What's the matter?" Iggy asked barely between forkfuls.

Padma rolled her eyes. "They think I have a crush."

"Oho! Who's the unlucky lad?" Even Tao smirked at Iggy's false 'fatherly' tone. She had come to like the two boys despite Iggy's poor table manners and Tao's stoic attitude. They balanced each other out rather nicely and hadn't shunned them like the rest of the snooty second-years. Despite the fact that Tao was more uptight than his mate, she always found it enjoyable to sit next to them during meals because of their company. Tao had even come to respect her for her intellect as they dove into various discussions about Transfiguration – even though, Padma would readily admit that she had often struggled with the subject in the past – and Iggy liked her biting sarcasm.

Mildred smirked. "Tom Riddle, of course."

"Riddle?" Iggy looked perplexed as he tried to remember him, "The one in Slytherin?"

"He is quite handsome." Alice nodded in agreement as her thick lips shaped a smile, using her hand to smooth her coarsely curled locks.

"Please," Padma said drily, "Riddle's the _last_ person I'd ever consider."

Mildred frowned, "That's a bit harsh, isn't it?"

"It's just that," Padma said quietly as she stared down at her plate, "It's just that he unsettles me, that's all."

"Well that's too bad," Alice intoned, "We're having flying lessons with Slytherin tomorrow; I was hoping for some romance to keep it from being boring."

"Please, don't act like you're not excited to see Black again." Mildred smiled when Alice's tan face flushed. The two sat together in History of Magic, mostly due to the fact that Black had shown up late for nearly every lesson. Alice had apparently found the boy to be quite charming despite his impish behavior.

"Black?" Tao asked.

"She means Alphard Black; it seems that Alice is quite taken with him."

"I'd be careful if I were you," Tao intoned, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"What do you mean?" Mildred harped in confusion.

"He seems like the wrong sort to me."

"Oh, come off it Chang! You're just jealous 'cause his cousin Orion beat your brother for prefect." Iggy nudged the boy rather harshly – enough to knock his glasses askew.

"I'm not saying they're all bad!" He stated rather quickly, "It's just I don't trust that gang of his."

"Gang?" Padma frowned.

Iggy nodded; a smirk was on his face, "He means that group of first-years who pranked the Gryffindors last week."

Mildred's eyes widened, "You mean those Exploding Snaps were them? But I thought that was Potter and Longbottom?" Someone had rigged Exploding Snaps under the Gryffindor table to go off simultaneously when they were all seated during dinner one evening – no one got hurt but it still gave Madam Ashworth, the librarian, quite the fright. Everyone had thought it was Potter and Longbottom since the two young Gryffindors were notorious class clowns.

Tao shook his head. "It was too well-rehearsed for them. A prank like that would have taken some serious planning – something those gutsy Gryffindors would never think of."

"You know," Padma contemplated, "I've noticed that there aren't ever any Ravenclaw pranksters, I wonder why that is?"

Tao snorted, "I doubt you'd find anyone in our house to be so uncouth as to –"

"It's mostly because they don't want to upset Selwyn," Iggy interrupted.

"He doesn't seem the type to –" Mildred began. The young blonde had quickly taken to their Charms professor, later confessing that it was her favorite class. Padma wasn't sure how much of her favor was due in part to his good looks and gentlemanly charm.

Both boys shook their head.

"You mean that Selwyn's actually gotten angry before? I've never seen the man without a smile," Alice said thoughtfully. Padma could concur – Selwyn was one of the most friendly professors that taught the first-years, second only to Dumbledore.

"He went practically ballistic on these two 'Claws when he caught them hiding Dungbombs in the girl's lavatory. Scariest thing I've ever seen besides that one time Igraine Crabbe's skirt flew up in Herbology," Iggy shuddered, causing a sniggering spree around him.

Mildred huffed, "_Rude_! A gentleman shouldn't comment on a lady's appearance if he has nothing nice to say."

"Oh, let it go, Milly. Everyone knows what a bint she is," Alice replied.

"I've never noticed this gang – doesn't Black usually just stick with Walburga and Cygnus, his siblings?" Padma wondered. She had heard odd rumors back in her time surrounding the Blacks – they were apparently firmly rooted in the Dark, notorious for their Muggle-hating beliefs. There was talk that they had practically disowned a majority of their family members for simply not adhering to their extremist philosophies. If Padma remembered correctly, Harry Potter's godfather (the one that escaped Azkaban) had been Sirius Black and had died early in the war against Voldemort.

Reynard Chambers, a fellow first-year with a constantly runny nose and a bit of a crush on Mildred (or so Padma suspected) had long been following their conversation but only chose then to enter it. "I heard that all the Slytherins hate Tom – especially Alphard's gang."

"Sounds like a bunch of hogwash to me. Tom's pretty nice, he even helped me in Potions," Mildred immediately frowned. "I don't know why they don't like him – I mean I know that they don't like Muggleborns. There's nothing wrong with being one," she continued, as though confused of their bigotry.

"Rumor has it that he's not actually a Muggleborn; he's a half-blood. My dad says that all the Slytherins are pompous gits so I s'pose that a half-blood's not much better than a Muggle to them anyways."

"Pompous?" A smile tugged on Alice's face. "Sounds about right. Half of them probably can't even understand him 'cause he's too smart for them. But I thought he was an orphan?"

Mildred answered logically, "There's still a chance that one of his parents was a wizard, though I have no idea what could possess a parent to abandon their own child."

"Well, he's a Slytherin, ain't he? No one's sorted in a House without a reason. There must be something wrong with him." Chambers gave an indignant sniff for emphasis.

"Don't tell me you buy into that blood-purity nonsense," Mildred scowled.

"O' course not. But mark my words, there's something wrong with those Slytherins – and there's likely something wrong with Tom Riddle."

Padma glanced over at the Slytherin table and noticed a certain someone was conspicuously absent. The black feeling that had been ignored earlier came back with a full vengeance.

Thankfully, neither Alice nor Mildred bothered her about Tom after that. It was much more likely that they were too preoccupied with their flying lesson to really care. Padma had the sneaking suspicion that she probably had the most experience with brooms out of the three of them, despite the fact that she would feel much more at home on a flying carpet of all things. Perhaps in this time they weren't banned yet – she remembered the great disappointment of her parents when they learned that such things were illegal in Britain. Padma had great memories of enjoying picnics while flying on a carpet when they were abroad in India. It was much more comfortable than a narrow broom, in her opinion, and infinitely more stable as well.

"Alrigh', now I want each of ya to command yer brooms. Now this is important for lots o' reasons. You need a firm command for the broom to react to – otherwise it won't listen to ya. These're new brooms so ya don't need to rough 'em up," The instructor barked, his voice booming across the Quidditch pitch. The brooms themselves were much newer than what Padma had expected – she had heard a rumor in her time that they hadn't been replaced since McGonagall had been in Hogwarts. Did that mean that she was currently attending now as a student?

Padma's musings were broken by the dozens of voices shouting "Up!" at their respective brooms. Most had little success but a majority of the Slytherin boys had obvious success. Curiously enough, Tom was one of them – even though she was quite sure that he had never flown a broom before.

"Up," Padma barely murmured, slightly surprised at the speed at which the broom reacted to her command. She frowned slightly since she could suddenly sense her magic attaching itself to the broom – a phenomenon she had never experienced before. Was this just another side-effect of the artefact or was this something else?

Their instructor walked up and down the rows, correcting postures and stances or helping some hopeless individuals (like Alice) with commanding their brooms.

"Now I don' want any of ya to fly too high. Keep a safe distance from each other and you'll be alright," he continued despite the many squealing from a few girls that weren't expecting to whoosh into the air. Surprisingly, the instructor had told many of the girls to fly astride; stating that it was would do best to preserve their modesty. Padma was one of only three that ignored his words and flew like the rest of the boys – mostly because she didn't see the need to since she always wore shorts under her skirt.

She flew at a leisurely pace unlike the many boys that were trying to outdo each other in speed (none really dared to dive at this rate, fearing the loud instructor's spit-coated wrath). Her peace was broken by a familiar buzzing feeling that she was starting to accompany with Riddle – it was impossibly faint and the only times that she ever really felt it was whenever she was in Charms, wielding her wand. She glanced to her right, noticing that the boy in question was slowly making his way towards her. Frowning, she thought about ignoring him and flying towards Alice who looked unsettled and was having slight trouble with keeping her balance.

He flew far enough away so it wasn't noticeable that they were near each other – not that it really mattered, most of the other students were too preoccupied with flying to really notice who was talking to who – but close enough so he wouldn't have to shout to be heard. Padma found herself several meters above the ground practically alone with him since the instructor was busy helping a blonde-pigtailed girl (likely from Slytherin) and Mildred too busy flying to notice.

"Dumbledore wants us to see Madam Milligan after dinner tonight; he wants to check the Bond to see if there's been any change," His words are eloquently enunciated while his face was plain and his lips barely moved. Since Padma was looking anywhere but at him – a typical bystander would have no idea that the two were actually talking to each other.

"I don't see why you're telling me this now of all times," Padma remarked drily as she sat languidly on her broom. She turned to face him slightly, so she wouldn't have to peer at him from the corner of her eye.

"I thought I made it expressly clear that we were not to associate."

Padma shook her head slightly, "No. You made it expressly clear not to _tell_ anyone that we are associated. Face it Riddle, you're stuck with me for the time being, though I can assure you that this . . . union is not mutual by any means." Silence reigned for a while until a thought came into Padma's head, "Has he found a way to break it?"

Tom's mask slipped into quiet displeasure, "Unfortunately, he hasn't. Though he tells me that he has numerous theories – none of which he believes he should tell me, of course."

"That old codger," She grumbled under her breath.

Tom, for once, actually looked amused, "Oh, what's this? Miss Agarwal, I never knew you to be one to _denounce_ a professor."

"If there's anyone that could find a way to break this – it's Dumbledore. The fact that he is so reluctant to do anything is fairly irritating, to say the least."

Padma frowned as she wondered again why Dumbledore seemed to dislike Tom so much. Unlike her, he wasn't tied to the boy eternally – and although Tom was unsettling, it was no excuse for the disguised but mutual animosity she had seen between the two. It hadn't taken her very long to notice that of all teachers at Hogwarts, Dumbledore was the only one that hadn't fallen to Tom's charms. And this fact seemed only to provoke Tom's ire towards the older wizard. It was an endless cycle – an endless game of masks and hidden intentions. She had thought that the man would have taken the boy under his wing since he was likely bullied in his own House and Slughorn was too blind to notice.

She opened her mouth with the intention of asking Riddle a simple question (that may or may not have a complex answer) when a blood-curdling scream froze her in place. Her eyes dashed to the source of the noise – it was Alice!

Her screaming only continued as she plummeted towards the ground below – almost too fast for the eyes to follow. Padma's heart clenched painfully as her mind grew blank – almost not registering what was really happening.

Faster than a blink, a black blur sped towards the hurtling girl – Padma swallowed her breath in relief and apprehension when Alice's screams stopped. She was now lying safely on Tom's broom, visibly shaking and clinging to his robes. Tom looked unperturbed as he gently floated to the ground, slowly bringing the girl to her feet on the ground.

Alice's broom, however, was still zooming in and out of the students. Flying erratically, a few other girls screamed shrilly when it became clear that it was targeting the other students – aiming mostly to knock them off their brooms.

"_Arresto Momentum!_" The flying instructor bellowed and the crazed broom halted sharply and clattered to the ground. Continuing to bark orders, the rest of the students went back to the ground. Padma flew back down as well, adrenaline fogging her vision.

"That's fifty points to Slytherin! Well done, son, that was some superb flyin' ya showed."

The rest of the Ravenclaws clapped vigorously while the Slytherins merely jeered at him. Padma frowned as she felt a small amount of pride and satisfaction and fury bloom in her chest – the emotions themselves weren't foreign but the way they were sprouting certainly was. It felt as though they were independent to her – not necessarily her emotions but almost as though she was feeling someone else's.

"Mr. Chambers, if ya could escort Miss Grey to the infirmary for a Calming Draught. The rest of ya, class dismissed!" The flying instructor quickly picked up the enchanted broom and bustled into the castle – likely to report the incident. The rest of the students chattered between themselves, most remarking on Tom's heroics or the fact that Alice Grey had almost fallen to her death.

"Ana!" Mildred yelled breathlessly, "Let's go visit Alice in the infirmary!"

Nodding wordlessly, Padma followed her friend into the castle after momentarily glancing at Tom who stalking towards the castle alone. Their eyes met; Padma curtly nodded her thanks and, for a single brief moment, Tom nodded back in recognition.

Alice, thankfully, wasn't trembling anymore when they reached the infirmary. Madam Milligan's shrill voice warned them not to raise their voices above a whisper – as though they were in a library not the medical wing – but they paid her no heed as the three girls hugged each other. Alice appeared to be in a much better mood with a bar of Honeydukes's chocolate in hand. Mildred was the one fussing over their friend as Padma was lost in thought.

Why had she felt pride and satisfaction when the students cheered for Tom (and anger when the Slytherins leered at him)? It was almost as though she was feeling his emotions rather than her own.

_Merlin's bloody bloomers! _Padma internally swore in disbelief. Had the Bond really grown as strong to allow her to feel his emotions?

The sickening feeling followed her as she trudged to the common room and later down to dinner. The fact that the entire castle seemed abuzz with the news of Tom saving Alice didn't help her revelation either – and the fact that she was supposed to meet Dumbledore after dinner today made her want to bang her head against the dinner table. But she faked her way through dinner, vigorously expressing her worry about Alice at appropriate intervals and laughing at Iggy's poor jokes despite the fact that her mind was working elsewhere.

"Hey, Ana," Alice quietly whispered.

"Hmm?" Padma answered noncommittally, her focus somewhere else.

"You know Tom, don't you?"

"Probably as much as anyone else, I figure." Padma shrugged as she daintily sipped her pumpkin juice.

"Don't get smart, Ana," she scowled, "I mean – you know what he likes, don't you?"

"What makes you say that?" Padma turned her gaze to the girl seated next to her – Mildred was too busy talking Quidditch with Iggy to really notice their conversation. Alice, who always spoke her mind, was now looking bashful and awfully sheepish.

"C'mon Ana! Everyone knows that you and Tom are probably the smartest in the whole year!" Padma gave her a look of disbelief as Alice rolled her eyes before continuing, "Look don't get stuffy, I just – I just want to thank Tom for saving my life, you know? I kind of want to get him something, like a thank you present."

"You want me to ask him what he likes," Padma concluded.

Alice blushed fiercely. "I mean if it's not too much trouble and he's – he's nice but he's kind of intimidating, you know?"

Padma snorted, "Yeah, I guess so."

"So you'll do it?" Alice begged.

"Sure, why not?"

The girl squealed and pulled Padma into a fierce one-armed hug.

"What's a guy got to do to get a hug like that?" Iggy loudly asked, pouting slightly.

Alice playfully swatted him as the rest laughed cheerfully.

Padma, on the other hand, stirred her soup carefully as she watched the murky liquid swirl – almost as though she could put off seeing Tom, Dumbledore and discussing the Bond if she took long enough at dinner.

She quietly excused herself, easily stating that she wanted to get started early on their Charms essay before slipping away to the infirmary. Unsurprisingly, Tom was already there with what could only be described as 'politely impatient' look on his face. Dumbledore and Madam Milligan arrived together and soon the Mediwitch closed the infirmary doors to give them some privacy.

Tom gave Dumbledore a scathing look, likely because of the Mediwitch's presence. The older wizard didn't seem to notice.

"I have explained the situation to Madam Milligan. She is a fantastic Healer and will be better able to assess the state of your cores than I ever could," Dumbledore stated firmly as Madam Milligan's weathered face flushed pink.

"Alright, let's have the both of you sit next to each other on this cot." Padma and Tom gingerly sat closer but ensured that there was still a safe distance between them – the tea incident was still fresh in their minds and neither wanted a repeat. "There you go – now, I want the both of you to stay as still as you can. This diagnostic spell tends to sting a bit but it won't be long," The older witch spoke as gold tendrils shot out of her wand and started to lace around both Tom and Padma's bodies. The feeling of the foreign magic made her feel unsettled – the probing felt unpleasant as she tried to keep a handle on her magic. Tom, on the other hand, had become as stiff as marble. His discomfort was starting to leech onto Padma as her own anxiety began to bubble and build.

Thankfully, the tendrils slowly began to retreat and Padma took deep, calming breaths to still her frantic heart. Tom was still visibly stiff but he seemed to relax just marginally. Madam Milligan's wand then shot to a clean stack of parchment and began to write furiously.

"Hmm, let's see what we've got here. This diagnostic spell isn't as detailed as the one you can receive at St Mungo's since that requires more than one Healer due to how draining it is but this should at least tell us how your cores are doing."

Padma rested her chin on her palm while Tom still sat rigidly straight – both waiting for the results with the same amount of excitement (which is to say very little at all).

Madam Milligan tutted, "Everything seems to be in order; your cores are still young but practicing magic will help progress the growth of the Bond."

"Madam Milligan, do you know if there are any . . . medical consequences to this bond?" Padma quietly asked as she licked her dry lips.

The older witch looked thoughtful before answering, "Well, the medical world doesn't know very much about Soul bonds since there have been few well-documented cases. The last such occurrence was in 1842. From my training, I've been told that there are severe consequences should one of you fall fatally ill – while it could mean the dissolution of the bond, it could also come at the price of both your lives or even your magic. If either of you start feeling strangely, I must ask that you notify me immediately."

The two adults then dismissed the both of them and Padma watched Tom's back as he made his way towards the dungeons where the Slytherin dorms were. Madam Milligan's lack of knowledge certainly hadn't helped comfort her in the least, she was still worried about feeling what she assumed was Tom's emotions but she had chosen to keep her suspicions to herself for now. She thought back to her initial animosity to the boy which was perhaps a tad unjustified (it wasn't exactly his fault that they were Soul bonded) and now essentially began to fade. Maybe her initial judgment of Tom was poorly made – he had saved one of her friends after all (and a Muggleborn at that!). Padma didn't buy into the House stereotypes – she had seen too many 'dumb' Ravenclaws and vicious Gryffindors to know the truth. Even the Hufflepuffs had been rather rude to Harry Potter during the Tri-Wizard Tournament in their support of Cedric Diggory. It had long been plainly obvious to her that a House does not determine a wizard's character.

She hadn't been fair to him, she now realized. And if there was one thing that Padma prided herself on – it was keeping an open mind and using logic to rule her actions, not her emotions. She would give him a chance, she quickly decided. It was the least he deserved.

"Riddle!" She tried not to shout too loud, knowing that Ogg and dreadful Deacon (the groundskeeper and caretaker respectively) rather enjoyed the fact that physical punishments were not outlawed in this time – she suspected that Filch would have been in heaven in this decade.

He paused, turning just a glance. An eyebrow rose as though he was shocked that she dared to speak to him.

"I –" Of all the times for her tongue to lose her! "I just wanted to thank you, formally, I mean. Thanks for saving Alice and I – I'm sorry." Padma bowed her head as she gathered her thoughts, "I haven't really been fair to you since I know that you wanted this," she gestured to her wrist where his name was still proudly printed in black ink, "as much as I did. And I took it out on you, so . . . I'm sorry. I'd like to start over as friends, if you'd have me – I mean, if you want to."

She chanced a peek at his expression which was still coldly neutral, a fact that she refused to let bother her.

"Apology accepted," he stated coolly, "now I believe that it would be best if we returned to our common rooms." He paused for a moment, "Unless there is something else you wanted to discuss?"

Padma's eyes widened before blurting out, "Alice wants to thank you properly. She wants to know what you like."

"What I," a pregnant pause, "like?"

"You know," Padma smiled at his oblivious expression, "She wants to get you a thank you present."

His silence was painful – almost as though the idea was alien to him. Which, she supposed at a later time, probably was rather alien to him, but she waited patiently for his answer.

"Tell her to give me crystallized pineapple. I would appreciate it if her gift arrived before Halloween."

Padma was about to lash out at him since dictating when a present arrived was rather selfish of him but she conceded that was just Tom's nature – he was rather controlling.

"Alright."

He nodded, before turning around and continuing down to the dungeons.

"Goodnight!" She called out impulsively.

He kept walking but he replied nonetheless, "Goodnight, Miss Agarwal."

* * *

Special thanks to:** Fire The Canon, Felix02, MickeyMonroe, **and** DGfleetfox.**

_**Why do the Slytherins believe Tom to be a Muggleborn?**_

_Tom's status as an orphan does draw his blood status into question. The Slytherins, after learning his surname, will automatically assume that he's a Muggleborn since Riddle isn't a prominent Wizarding family. As for the rumor that he's a half-blood, that's just one of the theories. Tom doesn't know his ancestry yet and neither does anyone else. Since there's only three options (pure, half-blood, and Muggleborn), most would naturally assume that he would have to at least be a half-blood since a Muggleborn in Slytherin would be too ironic. Tom will later be using this ambiguity to his advantage. I think he would have to since I doubt that most of his Death Eaters would take kindly to following a half-blood even if he was spouting blood purity ideas and was the supposed Heir of Slytherin._

**Please review!**

**[Edit: 10/8/2013]**


	6. Mutatio

**A truce has been declared, but how long will it last?**

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX: Mutatio (Change)**

_The lotus will eventually wilt._

_Year One_

* * *

"Ana! Can you look over my essay? I swear Selwyn's a slave driver!" Alice cried out exasperatedly in the common room. The last month had flown by and it was nearing the end of October. The other students were starting to get lazy because the promise of Winter break could be seen in the distance – unfortunately, the professors had no such issue as they continued to give out work. Padma had become long used to the monotony – the first-year assignments were horrifically easy for her. At first she had worried that she would need to completely relearn magic, but thankfully that wasn't the case. After some practice wielding her new wand, she found that she could perform most of her usual magic with little to no problem.

"He's not that bad," Mildred readily leaped to his defense, "And it's _Professor_ Selwyn, Alice." Padma felt the sign of yet another argument in the making – quibbling over Professor Selwyn was a favorite pastime for her two friends. Mildred would leap to the man's defense while Alice would verbally degrade him – which didn't really make a lick of sense to Padma, now that she actually thought of it. Professor Selwyn, for all his faults, was a decent teacher. He always seemed fair and he did have a bit of charm about him. Padma, for the life of her, couldn't understand where Alice's loathing stemmed from.

Alice rolled her eyes. "That's because you're in love with him."

"Alice!"

"What it's true isn't it?"

Padma smiled despite her friends' bickering; there never really was a dull moment with these two. She had learned that having the both of them in the library together was a sure way to get kicked out by Madam Ashworth (never mind the fact that Madam Ashworth was rather fond of singing off-key in the library herself). It reminded her of the time when –

Pain – excruciating pain entered her mind, forcing her vision to turn blood red for a few horrifying moments. The agony had gagged her – immobilized her – as Padma sat, waiting for the pain to subside so she could regain control. For those few tense moments, Padma was practically dead to the world – her breathing had even stopped, becoming too strenuous in the face of the enormous pain. Finally, after a few tense moments, the pain wavered until it retreated back to an unpleasant throbbing behind her eyes. Padma exhaled heavily, her vision still in a slight daze. She glanced down at her clenched fists which were an ashen white due to the lack of circulation. She shakily unclenched them, forcing herself to take calming breaths and just _relax_. Panicking after a pain attack often had disastrous results or so she had learned after a few months of their occurrence. They had started sometime after the second week of school and were increasing in their frequency.

"Ana? Are you even listening?" Alice's voice sounded so loud despite the fact that she was seated only an arm's length away and was speaking normally.

"Hm?" Padma muttered, trying to ignore the pain, "I'm sorry? What was that?"

Alice scowled impatiently, "What's your opinion on Selwyn?"

"_Professor_!" Mildred shrieked.

"He – He's our Head of House," Padma tried to say but her vision was still swimming, "Sorry, I've got quite the headache right now."

"You should see Madam Milligan!" Mildred immediately chirped.

Padma shook her head. "No, I think I'll be alright if I just went to bed early. I'll see both of you tomorrow morning."

Her friends nodded but Mildred still had a worried expression.

Padma gathered her books, making a great effort not to reveal the true extent of her pain. She smiled wanly as she ventured up the steps to the girl's dorm. She unceremoniously dumped her books in her trunk and closed the door with a flick of her wand. Ensuring her privacy (and knowing it wouldn't last), Padma flopped onto her bed – burrowing into the cool pillow as she grit her teeth.

The headaches had been a recent addition to her normal plights. They had started about a few weeks ago, and at the time she hadn't really thought much of it. Headaches were a normal occurrence for her back home. The pain had never been this bad; she had never momentarily lost sight before. It worried her but not enough to go to Madam Milligan for a potion. Padma didn't want to go to the older Mediwitch who had a tendency to overreact and blow things out of proportion. Knowing Madam Milligan, she enforce bed rest and likely notify Dumbledore – maybe even Riddle if she suspected it had anything to do with the Soul bond. That was a consequence that Padma couldn't afford to bear. So she ignored it, hoping that more sleep and less reading would hold the key to her healing.

The headaches almost seemed to occur at random, only really happening during times when – Padma jolted to attention.

Her headaches only occurred when she was trying to remember something from her past!

The epiphany horrified her; she didn't want to believe it. The thought troubled her greatly, causing her to sigh. Padma knew that she would eventually have to tell someone about this or at least attempt to get treatment for her headaches since she knew that Mildred wouldn't leave her alone if she didn't. Her expression soured as she lied in her bed, tossing around in the covers as a cloud of despair settled over her. She felt tears wet her pillow as she wallowed in self-pity.

Why her? What had she possibly done to deserve a fate such as this?

Padma desperately wanted something to blame her troubles on but she knew that she had no one to really pin the predicament on except, perhaps, herself. If only she hadn't been so curious about that stupid artefact! She would probably be enjoying tea now with Parvati as she listened to her twin gossip about their year-mates. The image made her smile slightly, thankful that at least she hadn't forgotten about her twin.

_At least for now_.

Halloween should have been an exciting affair since the entire school was bedecked with decorations. Even the portraits themselves took on a festive flair – a few of them even began telling scary stories to anyone that would listen. Peeves, the ever so petulant poltergeist, took it upon himself to scare the life out of anyone who passed him – first-years or otherwise. He had succeeded as well since Madam Milligan's medical wing had been crowded with dozens of witches (and a few younger wizards) who needed calming draughts. Even some of the more mischievous upperclassmen tried their best to scare the gullible first-years much to the chagrin of her year-mates. Padma herself merely enjoyed the spirit with a smile despite the fact that her worries were growing each day. Since she now knew the trigger for her headaches, she avoided remembering her past as much as possible – passing her time by studying diseases in a dusty tome entitled _Magical Maladies and Their Remedies_. On some level, Padma hoped that perhaps she would find the cure. She had found the book mistakenly placed in the Charms section of the library but Padma doubted she would find an answer to her troubles in a book that wasn't from the Restricted section of the library. Nonetheless, she continued to chip away at the large volumes, telling anyone who asked that she was interested in a career as a Healer.

While Halloween seemed to pass without a fuss, it was the morning after that really troubled Padma.

It had started normally enough – Iggy was groggily awake as Tao prodded his friend repeatedly so he wouldn't fall asleep in the porridge . . . again. Alice and Mildred were still bickering over – something, Padma couldn't be bothered to pay attention. Chambers was still wiping his nose with his forever dirty handkerchief as he tried to engage Arnold Shaw, self-proclaimed Quidditch bluff, into a conversation.

Everything seemed normal – but Padma wasn't Sorted as a Ravenclaw _twice_ for nothing.

The Slytherin table, while more dignified than say the Gryffindors when it came to table etiquette, was never known to be completely silent. They spoke in hushed tones – whispers, really – as each of their members ate delicately, posing as true aristocrats. Even the oaf Goyle with all of his burly strength had better table manners than Iggy (but only slightly) – which was surprising seeing as he ate what seemed to be half of the table on a regular basis – as though it was an inherently bred Slytherin trait.

Today, however, the entirety of the Slytherin table was silent – silent to the bone. The only noise emanating from that direction was the soft clanking of silverware hitting plates. The majority weren't even really eating, mostly just politely picking at their food. Quite of few of the girls were rather pale and none really dared to glance at the other tables. Their usual haughty expressions were absent in the place of pure . . . anxiety? Fear? Padma frowned at her assessment, that couldn't be right. What could have possibly scared an entire house into such a state? And the Slytherins at _that_.

Padma glanced around the table until her warm brown eyes met cold grey ones.

Tom didn't normally join his house for breakfast – in fact, Padma noticed that he didn't often join them for most meals. He appeared enough so he would never really be reprimanded but he spent most of his time elsewhere. Padma couldn't really find any reason to blame him. She couldn't imagine dining with Slytherins to be very pleasant either. Today, on the other hand, he was sitting – very prominently seated next to Michael Mulciber and a few other notable purebloods – and his lips curled into a very unpleasant smirk when he caught her gaze.

It was almost as though he was smiling in triumph. He even raised his goblet of pumpkin juice as though in a toast. There was something very wrong. While their Soul bond hadn't really strengthened in the least – Padma could still occasionally feel random emotions which she had long deduced were Tom's. They were never very threatening, often times it was too hard to discern from her own cluttered feelings but, at that moment, the only thing that she felt was pure smugness – almost a glee – coming from him. The sheer intensity of it almost threw her but she found herself unable (or unwilling?) to look away from his stare.

Padma blinked and the victorious feeling soon left her. She bowed her head for the rest of meal, refusing to meet anyone else's eyes – particularly if they happened to be grey in color.

Weeks went by before Padma found anything to explain the sudden change in the Slytherins. Rumors slowly spread that someone in the Slytherin had scared the rest out of their wits on Halloween night – Padma had an unsettling feeling that this someone was undoubtedly Tom. No one would divulge any further details. Even approaching the Slytherins didn't work since they all refused to acknowledge it, but only one thing was for sure – Tom Riddle was now lauded by nearly all the Slytherins.

Overnight, his former bullies had become his most fervent followers. Padma called them followers because they followed Tom around like a pack of lost puppies – each and every one hanging on to his every word as though he was Merlin himself. The older Slytherins didn't do this but they all nodded to Tom when passing in the hallways and it soon became rare to see Tom alone in the hallways of the school. Many had speculated on this change but soon enough, the Slytherin's behavior was forgotten in favor of something else – Christmas.

The Prefects had already begun putting up Christmas decorations – Professor Selwyn had charmed the giant Christmas tree that had been brought in by Ogg earlier. The familiar sight made Padma smile but she was loath to visit her memories in the chance of another pain attack. A group of mischievous boys had started charmed some mistletoe into flying around, particularly targeting the more comely girls of the sixth and seventh years. Professor Selwyn had even charmed some wreaths into singing Christmas Carols whenever someone passed by, though the singing was starting to grate on her nerves.

Her own birthday passed with very little affair – she hadn't bothered to tell her friends and she had spent most of her day alone in the Room of Requirement which had taken form as her old flat – a decision she would later regret since she became rather depressed for the next two weeks. Her headaches became less of a worry as of late; she stopped reading the dusty medical book, believing it to be a waste of her time.

"So what are you doing during the holidays, Aggie?" Iggy asked between large mouthfuls, smirking at the frown that adorned her lips when she heard the nickname. He had started calling her that as of late – stating it was much easier to remember than her actual surname (never _mind_ the fact that he could have just called her by her first name).

"I'd really wish you'd stop calling me that. It makes me sound a hundred years old."

He winked, "Oh lighten up. You're much too serious for your age, Aggie."

"I'm staying at the castle," She stated before tucking in. She had signed the board in the common room earlier, noting that hers was the only one on the list from their year. She tried not to think about the fact that this would be her first time staying at the castle during the holidays, reminding herself that it wouldn't be all that bad. Besides, she told herself, she had once been an adult – she could take care of herself.

"You're not going to visit your folks?" Alice asked with a goblet of pumpkin juice in hand.

Padma shook her head. "It's better this way."

A brief, stifling silence settled over them. Padma made it point not to talk about her family and, thankfully, most of her friends respected her privacy. Any and all questions they had were quickly nipped in the bud. She knew she could have lied to them but she felt that it was better this way – they were genuinely good people and she would have felt horrid having to constantly lie to them just to keep her identity a secret.

"Guys!" Mildred shouted upon entering the Great Hall – she wasn't usually this late for breakfast but she had stopped at the Owlery this morning – pausing slightly when she finally reached them, "My parents are taking me to New York for Christmas!" Her normally pin-straight hair was looking very messy but her blue eyes shone in glee; Padma felt happy for her friend, knowing that Milly didn't often get excited about things.

"That's so exciting!" Alice gushed, quickly filling in her friend about all the sights. Her brown curls bouncing as she rushed up to hug Mildred.

Padma smiled, "That sounds great, Milly."

"Best be careful now," Iggy smirked, "You know what they say about American boys."

"Iggy!" Mildred blushed indignantly, "Where's Tao? He's not still asleep, is he?"

Iggy shook his head. "Nah. His folks picked him up earlier."

"Really?" Alice frowned, "But what about his exams?"

Iggy sighed. "He's going to take them after the break. I don't know why he had to go – he barely had the chance to say goodbye."

"Maybe you should Owl him," Mildred suggested thoughtfully.

"Well, he'll be back after holidays."

Padma spent the next few days bored out of her mind. Most of her classes had long lost their appeal as she started doing the work almost mechanically. In fact, the only class that she ever truly enjoyed was Transfiguration but that was only because Dumbledore was teaching it. Having Potions with Slughorn was alright but his sycophant nature put her off. Selwyn was a good teacher despite being rather strict but he reminded her a bit of Gilderoy Lockhart due to the daily swooning she had to endure in his class. She didn't care much for Herbology or History of Magic. Astronomy had some promise mostly because she found Professor Celino to be an intelligent man whose passions included much more than simple Astronomy, but they were awfully limited in what they were expected to do as first-years. Defense Against the Dark Arts had been laughable – Merrythought was a good teacher but she stressed theoretical over practical. A mistake that would eventually take its toll on the students, besides, the best teaching Padma ever had in the subject was from her time in Dumbledore's Army. Merrythought simply didn't come close.

This academic lethargy didn't really sit well with her. She still did her work, of course, that was a given but she found herself longing for something to stimulate her. She almost felt like her brain was rotting – which was ridiculous – and the thought of spending Christmas alone and mostly unsupervised greatly appealed to her. Maybe she'd get to do some research in things that wouldn't necessarily be appropriate for a first-year? She could only hope so.

She smiled nonetheless when she said goodbye to Alice and Mildred, promising to send them owls after giving them each their Christmas gift. She had gotten a hold of some knitting needles from a Muggleborn in their dorm and had Charmed them to magically knit whatever she wanted. Getting a hold of yarn was fairly easy after she bribed Iggy with the promise of helping him with his Transfiguration essay – how he managed to get a hold of so many colors was beyond her but she knew looking a gift horse in the mouth was never a good idea.

They had both been rather delighted with her creations though they both asked her when she had the time to make them. Padma merely smiled wickedly in return, merely stating that a witch never revealed her secrets. She even gave Iggy and Tao sweaters: a deep blue with a bronze 'R' denoting Ravenclaw (though she asked Iggy to pass on Tao's). On an impulse, and the fact that she had extra yarn and loads of time on her hands, she also made gifts for Dumbledore and Tom. For Dumbledore, she had jokingly knit some socks – she distinctly remembered his fondness for them (or at least a rumor or something). Tom's was much more professional – a rich green scarf with a large grey 'S'. Unbeknownst to those receiving her creations, Padma had put Instant-Warming charms on them so they kept you warm so as long as you wore them. She had done it without really thinking about it so she supposed it must have been something she had done regularly back home.

Her memory was only getting increasingly worse as the days continued but Padma was still reluctant to call attention to herself. The headaches had stopped for the moment but where before she had easy access to all her memories, there was now a scant few that she could remember without causing herself physical pain. Occasionally she would get odd notions that she believed to be stemmed from memories – like knowing that Parvati would have preferred purple over pink – and her memory loss hadn't really affected her studies. Most of the memories that she was losing seemed to be specifically classified as personal since she could easily remember the last five goblin revolutions as well as the wand movement for _Wingardium Leviosa _and not, say, her cousin's birthday. While the revelation should have been reassuring, it did nothing for the black feeling that had been living in her stomach.

Despite the fact that it was Christmas morning, Padma still found herself rising at her usual time. She took her time changing out of her nightgown, choosing to wear a knit sweater and a skirt since she didn't really want to wear the school uniform when they were supposed to be on holiday. She paused when she glanced at Tom's gift which was resting innocently on her trunk. Would he even be at breakfast? _Should_ she even give it to him? Sighing, Padma shoved the gift into her bookbag – so that if he didn't come down for breakfast, she could easily smuggle the gift back to her room.

The Great Hall was almost empty – save for some bright-eyed Hufflepuffs who were quietly talking at the edge of the single table in the expansive room. Most of the students were likely sleeping in or lounging around in their common rooms. To her surprise, she noted that Tom was, in fact, seated at the table, quietly eating his breakfast. She paused a bit, before making her way towards him – briefly registering that the Hufflepuffs were leaving. She sat across from him, his gaze slowly looking up at her in question.

"Happy Christmas, Riddle."

She fussed with her bag before locating the scarf she had wrapped in some silver paper she had borrowed from Mildred. She offered the package to him but he merely stared at her as though she had grown an extra head as well as numerous other limbs. It was sadly obvious that Tom didn't trust anything that she was saying; leaving Padma to wonder if anyone had ever bothered to show Tom a little kindness at any time during his life. Surely the orphanage hadn't been that horrid? Had it?

Padma felt a deep pang of sadness which she brushed off diplomatically with a smile. "Go on. It's not cursed or anything."

He took the clumsily wrapped package – Padma never really had the patience for wrapping presents (that was more Parvati's forte) – carefully, as though it would shatter from his touch. Begrudgingly, she realized she should have asked Mildred to wrap it for her – but, then again, perhaps it was good that she hadn't.

"Why?" His voice was so soft that Padma wasn't sure whether she was imagining it.

Padma's brow furrowed, "It's Christmas. People give gifts, don't they?" She attempted to give her answer in a blasé sort of way, knowing that pity would probably only anger him further.

"I mean," he replied sharply, slight venom to his words, "why did you give it to me?"

"I was being honest when I said I would give you a chance at friendship. Would you rather I didn't?" She frowned.

He stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

Padma glanced around, quickly checking if they were alone before explaining, "You're my Soul bond and I know that it's not something we both wanted but I thought we might as well make the best of it, yeah? I'd rather not be stuck with someone I hated – and I'm pretty sure you don't either. Besides," there was a pause, "I know what it's like not to get anything."

"No you don't," he spat.

Padma gave him a weak smile, "I know what it's like to be overlooked. I know what it's like to watch others get what you want even though you wish – you wish they'd give it to you too." She ducked her head. "I mean it's alright if you don't want it but I won't let you give it back to me. I don't regret giving it to you." An odd feeling came over her – an odd sense of contentedness and peace – as she sat across from Tom, watching his reaction. Almost as though she had seen this particular scene before – _in a vision, a daydream, or a nightmare_ – but she couldn't really place her wand on it. It grounded her, making things much more real than she had realized. She now understood that she _really_ didn't regret making him the gift nor did she regret giving it to him. Her previous trepidation over his reaction was now gone and replaced by quiet understanding and it was _strange_.

He was quiet as he scrutinized her but Padma did her best to not notice his gaze. She lazily put jam on her toast and helped herself to some eggnog. They ate in rather companionable silence – Tom was the first to leave with her present tucked under his arm. She felt a slow smile creep onto her face.

Padma sat there for a while, absentmindedly tracing the edge of her goblet, not really thinking about anything in particular but feeling relaxed for the first time in what seemed to be months.

* * *

**[Edit: 10/8/2013]**


	7. Memoria

_**Acts of kindness never go unpaid.**_

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN: Memoria (Memory)**

_The lotus will eventually wilt._

_Year One_

* * *

Dumbledore had been rather delighted when he received her gift at the feast, praising her for the warm socks and stressed how it was _exactly_ what he wanted for Christmas. Padma still thought he was a barmy old codger but she had smiled at his thanks nonetheless.

Her friendship with Tom actually seemed to gain some ground during the winter holiday. They would sit together during meals – usually just breakfast or dinner since Tom was always conspicuously absent around the midday mark – and they occasionally conversed about a variety of things. Of course their subjects of conversation mostly remained firmly in academia, but Padma found him to be interesting and fairly knowledgeable about an array of subjects (even if he was just a first-year student). She had found that if she stayed to these topics, she could reliably get an answer from Tom without too much prodding on her part. It also probably helped that she wasn't all too nosy by nature (thankfully Parvati had gotten _that_ set of Patil traits and not her). He seemed to respect her – at least as a fellow student – but she got the feeling that he was always watching her rather carefully, as though every action she made and every word she spoke was marked carefully. Whether those marks were in her favor or not had yet to be decided, but she made do with what she had.

The break also allowed her to follow some other pursuits that she had always wanted to endeavor in but never found the time. Since she had been a newly instated Unspeakable, she was limited to research only what was assigned her. She was considered fairly low-level on the ladder because she had only met two other Unspeakables (one had been Gemma and the other was a nameless wizard who catalogued the library in the department) and the department head during four years of work. It was impossible to find out the number of Unspeakables at any given time since there were supposedly dozens of floors underneath the main Ministry of Magic floors dedicated solely to the Department of Mysteries. She knew, however, that the more privileged workers got to research their individual interests – spellcrafting, heavy enchantments and ward invention; nature manipulation; the opportunities to learn within the department were endless.

Since Padma doubted that spellcrafting would be tolerated (not unless she went to the Room of Requirements but _that_ would require remembering and she didn't want to risk another headache), she decided to work on her wandless magic. Wandless magic was an infinitely useful skill that was, unfortunately, extremely difficult to master. There was a reason why wizards typically didn't bother with it – magic needed a medium (an outlet) to manifest physically otherwise it would dissipate naturally to its surroundings. Padma, however, saw this as a challenge – wandless magic was typically nonverbal but she supposed that it might be possible to perform magic without a wand if one had a suitable substitute. She had proposed the idea as something to work on when she had more time – and now she found herself having nearly seven years' worth.

New Year's Eve had been the hardest for her during their winter break. Her family had a long standing tradition of gathering together and eating Indian delicacies as they celebrated the incoming year – often completed with fireworks. It was a noisy night and Padma was often relegated as babysitter of her younger cousins while Parvati wandered off talking to their various aunts and uncles. New Year's Eve at Hogwarts was painfully quiet. There were only about ten or so students that opted to stay for the break; the only adults present were Deacon, Ogg, Dumbledore and Madam Milligan (the witch had left temporarily and would be back within a few days). Despite the elaborate feast house-elves had prepared, Padma found it too bitter to swallow.

Dumbledore, bless the old fool, was trying much too hard to make conversation.

"Miss Agarwal, what are your thoughts on Hogwarts?" His blue eyes twinkled merrily as he gently set his goblet down. The odd group was seated in the Great Hall, the ceiling illuminated with the many dazzling stars that shined much too merrily for the otherwise subdued tone of the supper. It felt awfully strange to sit in such a large room when they numbered less than twenty diners but Padma digressed, it wasn't her decision to make. Though the staff still sat together, they had chosen to sit down with the students as they made use of a single table. Padma was seated directly across from the Deputy Headmaster as Tom was seated diagonally to her right.

"I enjoy it here," she stated carefully, watching Riddle's expression, "and I'm thankful for the opportunity."

Dumbledore nodded, "That's good to hear my dear. I fear I have neglected you in light of my other duties."

Padma shook her head, "It's fine, sir. I don't need to be looked after, really." She attempted to appear cheerful but couldn't find the strength to smile; the idea of actually having to stay in this time for seven years was starting to sink in for Padma and where before she had calmly accepted the fact – now she was desperate not to. The thought was definitely sobering, that was for sure.

She excused herself rather early, not finding the will to eat when memories of her mother's cooking were flavoring her tongue. She had been so preoccupied returning back to the dorms so she could have a good cry that she wasn't expecting the hand on her arm to bring her to a stop. Padma, in the blink of an eye, took out her wand from its holster. She spun out of the hold and proceeded to point it at her assailant.

What she found instead was a rather amused looking Tom Riddle who raised his hands to show he meant no harm. His dark hair was still parted neatly but he was wearing Muggle clothes. He quickly released her arm but there was dark look in his eyes that could only be described as morbid humor.

Padma exhaled loudly before putting her wand away, "What was that for, Riddle? Are you trying to scare the life out of me?"

"There's something I want to show you," He answered simply before asking, "What were you intending to do? Use the Tickle Charm on me?" His eyebrow was beautifully arched in question and amusement evident in his tone.

Padma ignored his question choosing to ask instead, "What do you want to show me?"

"Follow me," he merely stated as he walked down the hall. Padma outwardly scowled though on the inside she was definitely curious – Tom had been rather friendly lately but even this was rather out of character for him. It didn't take her long to realize that he was leading her to the Astronomy tower, though the reason why eluded her.

She groaned silently as she made her way up the steps – she had always hated these stairs.

"What's it that you want to show me?" She asked as they were nearing the top – Tom was still in front of her with only his back facing her.

He gestured lazily to the view outside the tower which overlooked most of the grounds and a large portion of the Black Lake.

"Alright," Padma nodded, "but I don't see why –"

Colors that were impossibly bright lit up the night sky – exploding in dozens of shapes and spirals. Magical fireworks were different than their Muggle counterparts – they were brighter and often lasted longer. They also didn't have the same burning smell or limitations. Magical fireworks were often considered a work of art, specially designed by a particular witch or wizard. Tigers, birds, lions and other creatures walked across the black sky in stunning clarity. Oftentimes Magical fireworks were used to visually represent a story – usually one of Merlin or the other fairytales that wizards were fond of telling children – lasting up to an hour.

Padma's eyes were wide; her mouth still wide open in shock.

The two of them leaned up against the ledge, watching the sky in interest as the show continued. She was hypnotized as she watched, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. She had to clench the ledge in order to stop the tears from flowing past her eyes, swearing that she wouldn't cry in front of Riddle. It was hard to understand why she wanted to cry – it wasn't the bitter desperation she had felt during dinner, no this was something less bleak almost hopeful. It felt like it was a sign – a sign to remind her to stay strong – that she would get through this nightmare in one piece. There would always be a light to show her the way back home no matter how dark things seemed.

She briefly glanced at Tom from the corner of her eyelashes, noting his cool almost emotionless expression. He was lounging against the ledge, his chin in his palm as he simply gazed out into the illuminated darkness. She wondered what had possessed him to show her this – to share something as wonderful as this – but she found no will to ask him.

When the show was finally over – the last bit of colorful tendrils slowly fading back into the black abyss that held the moon – she thanked him the only way she knew how.

He was almost at the top of the stairs when she hugged him from behind. Her cheek was firmly pressed against the curve of his shoulder and her arms were loosely tied around his waist. His gait immediately stiffened from the contact but Padma had been careful; though they were the same height, she made sure not to touch his skin – the memory of their initial meeting was still painfully burning in her memory and she doubted that he wanted a repeat either – lingering for only a few breaths before releasing him just as quickly.

"Thanks, Tom."

Her voice was quickly swallowed by the darkness as Tom silently made his way down the steps.

Padma knew that it was probably too early for the hug; there was the chance of it ruining their tentative friendship but she couldn't bring herself to regret the action. She stayed in the tower, long after the last bit of light disappeared as she appreciated the quietness despite the nipping cold. She knew that she should be getting back to the dorms – curfew had been extended but for only so much. She gave out a sigh as she turned her back and went down the steps, taking care not to make too much noise as she became lost in her thoughts.

* * *

"The eve of 1271 A.D. marked new laws regarding the treaty . . ."

Padma felt her eyes droop; even though she had a strict no-sleeping policy in any of her classes, History of Magic was definitely a tempting exception. She was rather upset that after the holidays she found sleeping rather difficult. Her mind stayed up well past curfew as she thought of all things she could do in seven extra years as well as forming numerous back-up plans should the artefact not work (perish the thought) and countless more useless concerns that did little more than ensure her drowsiness the next day.

Glancing around the quiet classroom, it was obvious that she wasn't the only one fighting sleep. Nearly half of the Slytherins (mostly boys) were drifting in and out of consciousness if they weren't passing notes. The Ravenclaws attempted to stay awake – mostly due to upholding the 'studious' stereotype that plagued their house – but to no avail. She was rather amused to see Mildred cuddling her pile of textbooks as she was seated next to her. The only ones that looked wide-eyed in the entire room were Alice Grey and Tom Riddle.

Alice, ever the history buff, seemed enraptured by Binns. She hung on his every word as though he was recounting something interesting – like the main ledger book at Gringotts – while Tom was diligently scribbling notes down. Padma stifled a frown; she had been correct in assuming that hugging Tom was probably the best way to break off their budding acquaintanceship. Tom hadn't spoken to her since then and it was now April. He continued to avoid her and she felt that if she confronted him it would only make things worse. He didn't look so sullen anymore and he was rarely alone nowadays – his group of puppies followed him everywhere from the library to the Great Hall. So she resigned herself to watching him from afar again.

She wasn't ashamed of hugging him – it was natural reaction in her book and an accepted gesture of appreciation and affection. But she couldn't degrade him on his reaction; she did remember that they were _only_ eleven despite the fact that she was still mentally twenty-five. Tom likely grew up without much physical contact and he was an eleven-year-old boy – he probably thought that girls were horrid little creatures or something. Padma internally shivered at the fact; there were a lot of things that she would have to get used to.

". . .a notable wizard of the era despite his absurd fascination for butterflies –"

The bell rang shrilly, waking up the sleeping students and jolting the others out of their daydreams. Binns was nonplussed as his droning voice said something about half a foot for an essay or something as students rushed out the classroom, eager to escape.

"How do you do it, Alice? I can't stay awake for longer than five minutes before his voice gets to me! Even my mum says she fell asleep in his class when she attended Hogwarts!" Mildred animatedly questioned Alice as they were walking down the corridor towards the Ravenclaw tower for some needed unwinding.

"He's been teaching that long?" Alice asked.

"He's a ghost – he's probably been teaching for years! And he'll likely continue teaching long after we've graduated." Padma gifted her friends with a smile, knowing that she would be correct.

"How does someone become a ghost anyways?" Alice wondered aloud as she lazily slung her bookbag over her shoulder.

Mildred looked thoughtful as she considered her reply, "Well, I suppose any witch or wizard can become a ghost if they wanted to but I'm not sure what it takes exactly."

"Most don't become ghosts, it's not a very pleasant experience I'd imagine," Padma commented as they drew nearer to the bronze knocker that guarded the Ravenclaw common room. Suddenly, the memory of a crying girl fuzzily drifted into her consciousness – Moaning Myrtle. Padma's brow furrowed.

That couldn't be right. She hadn't see Myrtle at all while attending Hogwarts – maybe this was before she died? Maybe she hadn't attended the school yet? How did she die anyways? Padma scowled as a sharp pain struck her in the temple, sighing in defeat. She needed to tell someone about this – she was almost sure that this phenomenon was only affecting her since Tom showed no symptoms whatsoever. Perhaps she could convince Dumbledore into letting her speak to the Sorting Hat again? The Sorting Hat was probably the only thing that knew more about her Time Traveling than anyone else. Maybe talking to the oversized bonnet would be her best option.

The trio stopped before the bronze eagle, as it cocked its head.

_"What always runs but never walks, often murmurs but never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, and has mouth but never eats?"_

Padma waited patiently for her friends to answer. Both were rather similar in their riddle solving abilities but occasionally one of them would surprise her with an answer that the other wasn't expecting.

"A river!" Alice shouted, gleeful that she had solved the riddle.

The door opened, allowing them entrance into the blue and bronze common room. The common room wouldn't change much over the years – it was circular with a color scheme that matched the House colors. The only distinguishing feature that would set this particular common room from the others would be the numerous tables and the pulpit in the room. Debates were a lively affair in the Ravenclaw tower – though it was primarily the upperclassmen, the younger students would often present different topics or subject matters. Intellectual discussions were what most Ravenclaws thrived for – despite their different interests, everyone could sink their fangs into philosophical topics regardless of background or preference. Politics weren't usually discussed but there was a small group of 'Claws that held such debates every Tuesday night in the tower, usually talking about a new manner of government (perhaps like their American counterpart). Typically the prefects refereed such debates to prevent violent escalations – let it never be said that Ravenclaws weren't passionate about their beliefs despite their love of logic.

Save for a few paintings, the walls were decorated in bookshelves lined with thousands of books. The size of the Ravenclaw library wasn't nearly as big as the main one but it had a few gems that the library didn't. The downside with this particular library was that none of the books could be removed from the common room. It was difficult to find a book that you were looking for – the books had a habit of re-shelving themselves, constantly moving around from bookshelf to bookshelf. They often flew overhead as they scaled the tower's walls (the Prefects often had to close the windows to keep the books from flying out of the tower).

"Should we get started on History, then?" Alice asked aloud with a gleam in her eyes.

Mildred groaned, "I'm not touching that until Friday!"

Alice scoffed but Padma quickly interrupted, "I've got to go meet Dumbledore so I'll have to rain check."

"What's Professor Dumbledore want?" Mildred asked.

Padma shrugged while easily fabricating a lie, "I want to ask him a question about the Transfiguration essay that's due."

Alice gasped, "Blimey! I completely forgot about that."

"Well let's get started then," Mildred smirked, "See you in the Great Hall, yeah?"

"Of course," Padma said over her shoulder as she made her way out of the common room. Her smile dropped as soon as she was out of sight.

Knocking on Dumbledore's office, Padma was relieved when the older wizard answered.

"Miss Agarwal," he called her into the office, "May I offer you a salt toffee?"

She shook her head. "I was wondering, sir, if I may talk to the Hat. He seems to be aware of my . . . situation and I wanted to ask him some questions." Dumbledore had a thoughtful look on his face as he gently stroked his beard – Padma fidgeted slightly in her chair. She had never known Dumbledore very well and though she felt saddened by his death, she had never known the man personally. She hadn't attend his funeral since her parents had picked both her and Parv before breakfast. Padma felt wary of him; this wasn't the Dumbledore she had known in her time. This was a much younger Dumbledore who probably hadn't faced half the hardships of his future self – she would be naïve to believe that he was the exactly the same.

"Well, I don't see the harm – though I'm not sure how much the Hat will help you, it _is_ limited in its knowledge outside of Hogwarts."

"That may be the case, sir," she added the honorific when she quickly remembered her age as well as her disadvantages (she couldn't be choosy about her allies now), "but divulging information to the Sorting Hat is the only way I can receive answers without compromising the time stream. I'd like to give it a shot, please."

"Very well," he nodded, "Come by my office after dinner – I will retrieve the Hat from Armando's office."

"Thank you, sir."

He smiled as his eyes twinkled, "Not a problem, my dear."

She left his office with her first genuine smile since the winter holidays – soon she'll be able to discover some answers.

* * *

**I was wondering when your curiosity would get the best of you – though I am surprised that it took you this long. Perhaps you weren't much of a Ravenclaw after all?**

Padma scowled at the Hat. _Curiosity is what got me here, remember? I've learned my lesson for years to come. Why am I not surprised that you were expecting me?_

**To be honest, **the Hat replied**, I do get lonely. Dippet's office is dreadfully boring and he never bothers with anything interesting – I've been bored for last forty years, you **_**must**_** understand.**

Padma sighed, trying to keep her temper in check. _Earlier, you stated that my sudden appearance in this world was due to rules. Would you care to elaborate?_

The Sorting Hat took a while to reply, as though it was mulling over the consequences of such an action. Or it could be withholding information just for the fun it.

**There are rules that have been lost to Time – they were the laws given to the first wizards but are now long forgotten.**

_But you remember them, these rules._

**Of course, what do you take me for? Some glorified bonnet? **The Hat scoffed indignantly. **May I remind you that I am much older than this school? I will survive **_**long**_** after this little escapade of yours is over. Though I must confess, I find your situation rather . . . amusing. I would have never have thought that the rules would have led to **_**this**_**.**

_What rules! _She was starting to get impatient; the Hat did have a habit of droning on.

**There are certain parameters that limit Magic as all great wizards know.**

_Yeah, yeah. Time is one and Death is the other._

**And? I do believe that you are forgetting something quite important.**

_And that would be . . . ?_

**Love, my young Time Traveler, you are forgetting that Magic cannot influence Love. Why do you think that even the greatest of potions can only **_**imitate**_** Love?**

_Yes, yes – thank you for the philosophical question. What does Love have anything to do with my situation?_

**My dear, it has **_**every**_**thing to do with you.**

_So let me get this straight. I'm here because an ancient rule about Love says I have to be?_

**To be concise, yes.**

Padma groaned because of the absurdity of the situation. _But how am I here? Surely Love couldn't be strong enough to mess up Time._

The Hat sat silently in contemplation for a few moments before answering. **Love is the most volatile and most unpredictable magical construct in the known universe – Time Travel wouldn't be impossible. Your purpose is fairly clear – I don't see why you're so insistent on being so ignorant.**

Padma tried a different approach. _Why have my memories been disappearing?_

**Hmm, the only reasonable explanation would be the artefact. I can see in your memories that it was missing a stone?**

_So it's the artefact and not the Soul bond?_

The Hat grunted in the affirmative.

_So how do I stop the headaches and the memory loss? I need them to make it back home._

**I don't see why you continue to insist on going back. I thought that finding your Match was a happy occasion – why do you desire to leave?**

_This is not my home and I miss my family. I need to go back._

**What about your Soul bond? Do you really intend on abandoning him? **The Hat's tone seemed almost accusing, making Padma feel rather uncomfortable.

_Tom doesn't need me – he wants me here just as much I do. I don't think he'd really care if I left. _Padma's tone was firm but there was still some hesitation.

**As for your memories, I am afraid that I am quite limited in how I can help. I **_**am**_** simply a hat, you know. **Padma rolled her eyes. **My only advice would be to ask Dumbledore about Occlumency.**

_Occlumency? _She echoed.

**I'm afraid that our time is up. Farewell, Time Traveler, and good luck.**

* * *

Padma was deep in thought during dinner – though she doubted that anyone really noticed that anything was amiss. Iggy was currently doing an impression of his ever so gullible cousin much to Alice's amusement while Mildred and Arnold Shaw were talking animatedly about something – likely Quidditch and angles of trajectory. Tao had been noticeably quiet after the holidays but none of the girls ever commented on the fact, knowing that Iggy would probably get to the bottom of it since he had known the boy longer than them. Still, it was rather disheartening to see him so withdrawn; though he had never been loquacious, he had at least attempted to join the conversation before the break. Now he seemed to be a shallow reflection of his former self since he left the table as fast as he could. The girls had long speculated on his behavior and had wanted to ask Iggy but felt that it would be rude.

Padma briefly looked up from her dinner plate, accidently making eye contact with Tom at the Slytherin table. Remembering the Hat's explanation, she quickly looked away feeling embarrassed. It was preposterous to think that she had been sent here merely because of Love. Tom certainly didn't love her and she didn't love him. In fact, she doubted she would ever love Tom. Respect him, perhaps, but Love would be something she just couldn't let herself do. They were Soul bonds but the supposed connection that she should have felt with him was prominently absent. They were Soul bonds – so what? She wouldn't let that fact hinder her plans to getting back home and she was almost sure that Tom felt the same about their arrangement.

He was a hindrance – that was all. She had nothing to fear if she just kept her eyes on her goal – getting back home. Tom would only be an obstacle if she allowed him to be.

Padma glanced up briefly, slightly thankful that his gaze was no longer on her.

As long as they kept their lives separate from one another, there shouldn't be a problem.

Her resolve strengthened, Padma smiled at Iggy's joke as she laughed freely.

Her worry was for naught – Tom probably wanted her to leave as much as she did.

* * *

**[Edit: 10/8/2013]**


	8. Custos

**CHAPTER EIGHT: Custos (Guard)**

_The snake is always watching._

_Year Two_

* * *

Going back to the orphanage had been pure hell in Tom's eyes. He had been forced to degrade himself by going back to that insufferable prison – his warden as reluctant to take him back as he was to return. It had been that moronic Headmaster's fault – and he suspected that blasted Dumbledore was also a likely cause for his current location. Both wizards had insisted that he return to the orphanage, firmly dismissing his desire to stay at Hogwarts (the one place where he had truly felt that he belonged – the one place he _knew _he belonged). He longed to take refuge in its ancient stone walls as the magic whispered into his ears.

The only good thing about the summer break had been his new job at an apothecary at Diagon Alley – he was helping an elderly wizard who ran a small shop that sold ingredients. It was tedious work but Tom appreciated every minute that he wasn't stuck in that _hell_ so he endured the smiling at customers and feigned cheerfulness. The shop had also paid rather well and he was delighted at the prospect of not taking charity (the very thought had infuriated him but he took it as a necessary evil). He was becoming quite good at business too – knowing what ingredients were the most sought after as well as how to convince the everyday wizard to buy that extra scoop (he was quite the salesman, he knew).

He had been all too happy to return to the castle and begin classes again. With his ever so loyal 'friends' (they weren't really his friends, not really) at his side, Tom was feeling rather optimistic. He had gained the grudging respect of his peers but it wasn't enough for him – no, Tom wanted much more than just respect. He wanted absolute loyalty – he wanted everything they could give him. He found Lestrange to be an intelligent one (still rather dull but sharper than most, he supposed) while Avery was the most volatile. Black had been a tricky one – still was, but Tom knew the boy wouldn't _dare_ question him outwardly. Mulciber and Nott were rather eager but inherently stupid. Rosier was quite vengeful – a trait that Tom knew he could use to his advantage.

He had exchanged letters with some allies – a few notable upperclassmen as well as that pathetic leech Slughorn – and his trips to Knockturn Alley had been quite educational. He had long bought his school supplies – nearly as soon as the list had been sent by Owl – but he still spent all of his free time there, soon knowing all of the shop owners by name.

He caught sight of her a few days before they were meant to return to Hogwarts. She was wandering Diagon Alley alone but unafraid. It was her – the girl.

Tom had refused to ever really call her by her name – he had known from the start that she was lying (about what he wasn't quite sure) and he had no reason to trust her. Her intentions were rather unclear to him – she was illogical, an anomaly. But yet, there was a familiarity about her.

He didn't like it.

He found himself following her as she entered each shop. His eyes trained on her as she perused the different sections of Flourish and Blotts. Tom found himself infuriated by his curiosity – what did it matter to him what she did? There was still that nagging voice in his head (which sounded suspiciously like Mrs Cole) that told him that normal twelve-year-old girls didn't wander streets unaccompanied, never _mind_ if they were witches. But what did it matter to him? She seemed competent and not the least bit deterred by the lack of company.

She was taller now – her robes seemed to fit her better since she no longer looked like she was drowning in fabric. He could remember their first encounter – her dress looked like it was made for an adult not an eleven-year-old girl; at the time he hadn't thought of it much, but now he was sure it was reason enough to be suspicious. Her long dark hair still elegantly braided and her skin was that same, familiar warm tone. She didn't look happy, per se, but rather resigned as he watched her stifle her sighs. There was a certain fatigue that laced her movements – as though the thought of moving pained her. Nevertheless, she carried on with her shopping as she gathered her school supplies. Despite the fact that Tom knew she didn't know he was trailing her, she would often look over her shoulder likely in paranoia. But he was careful, never trailing too close as he blended into the background. There was no logical reason for doing this but he knew that if he wanted the truth he would have to watch her carefully He still didn't buy into this Soul bond nonsense and he was suspicious (of her, of Dumbledore, of everyone).

But it was no matter – they hadn't exchanged a word in over ten months (ever since that time on the Astronomy tower . . .) – and he had _no_ intention of changing that.

She would not get in the way of his plans – she would leave eventually.

They always left.

* * *

"Wait until those Gryffindorks get a load of this!" Muciber's smirk was evident in his tone. He and Lestrange had devised a 'welcome-back' gift for the House – though gift was a rather loose term. No longer were they going to pull the pranks made famous by Potter and Longbottom (those moronic Gryffindors lacked many things and finesse was just _one_ of them). Tom had needed a way to test his 'friends' – he needed to know how well they could follow his orders and this was the simplest way that would reinforce his authority.

The so-called project was charming the broomsticks that would then be used by the first-years during their flying lessons. The magic itself was rather simple (though he had Nott do it claiming he was better at Charms [_rubbish_]) and the group hid themselves rather well so they could watch the resulting chaos undisturbed. Tom watched, his gaze dark but patient.

The resulting chaos concluded in three first-years being sent to Madam Milligan to regrow their bones – no further casualties, though most of his followers were pleased to see that the victims were either Muggleborn or half-blood (a _real_ witch or wizard would have realized there was something wrong with the brooms, Mulciber had smarmily commented). His followers were on express orders not to relinquish any knowledge of the incident so they wouldn't incriminate themselves and soon enough the incident had reached the dinner table in the Great Hall. Whispers made up the background noise that night as Tom's followers grinned victoriously (though not too victoriously so as not to draw attention to themselves) – never the less, the mood of the Slytherin table was rather jolly when compared to that of the Gryffindors.

Tom allowed himself to smirk outwardly.

Yes, it was good to be back.

He even chanced a glance at the Ravenclaw table just to see her expression – not that it really mattered. Her so-called friends were clucking worriedly like the hens they were as she met his gaze unwavering in her stare. There was a challenge in her expression as though she was wordlessly questioning whether he knew anything of the accident. He gave her his easiest smile, calmly sipping his pumpkin juice. She frowned slightly, the expression found only in her eyes and not on her face, as though she had meant to make him feel guilty.

Riddle smirked wider, amused by her attempts. Hardier opponents had tried to make him feel guilt and they all had failed. He found the emotion to be useless except when it would benefit him and it certainly didn't in this case.

Neither dared to look away – each wanting to have the last word or, in this case, the last look. Tom, for the sake of his pride, would not let himself look away or even blink for that matter. He felt that it would be an admission of the guilt which he did not feel.

This is why he was so thoroughly astounded by her audacity when she stuck her tongue out at him. He blinked, damning himself to failure. She grinned at him briefly and then had the cheek to ignore him for the rest of the meal.

But he could not bring himself to feel too upset over his more recent loss.

She was a strange girl, _Anala Agarwal._

* * *

"What've we got today?" Nott's voice was still rather squeaky, much to the glee of the other members since they found amusement in pointing it out at every possible moment. Nott was rather short in comparison to the others (even Tom) and it was of little doubt that he hated his stature.

"Potions with the Ravenclaws," Avery stated primly, his napkin on his lap as he carefully cut his sausage. His features were rather neat for a boy his age – blond hair carefully combed with his green eyes bright and alert.

"Bloody nerds, the lot of them," Mulciber grunted as he chugged his pumpkin juice. Avery looked amused at his lack of manners but a slight disgust traced his features. Though Mulciber could have been described as attractive, his behavior made it nearly impossible to do so.

Tom was seated at the table – though he rarely ever touched his food. He focused most of his attention to his surroundings but never really bothered to join the conversation. His 'friends' chatted on as Tom found himself gazing at the Ravenclaw table, noting something rather peculiar.

She had never shown up late to breakfast before. _Curious_.

"Still better than having it with the Gryffindorks or the Huffles," Rosier conceded as he glanced at the table just a few meters away. The typically quiet boy was undoubtedly the sturdiest of all of them – and the hardiest in a fist-fight though his movements were decidedly slow.

Mulciber grinned devilishly as he dug into his food, "Whatcha think ol' Sluggy is up to today?"

Avery scowled, "Knowing him he'll be licking Prince's boots."

"Nah, you know how he _loves_ Tom," Nott shook his head. Tom, to his credit, didn't deign him a glance.

The others nodded in agreement – the young boy had the Potions Master wrapped around his little finger.

"I don't know why he insists on inter-House partners," Mulciber grumbled.

Lestrange grinned cheekily, "Oh stuff it, Mulciber. You know you wouldn't be passing the class if you didn't have one of those nerds to help you out. You'd definitely get Troll in all your classes then."

"Hopefully I'm paired with that Agarwal bird. She's top of the class after Tom and Prince."

Tom stilled, pausing to listen in on his conversation for the time being.

"She's pretty enough but too cold for me," Nott said, "you could replace her with a statue and no one would notice."

Cold was not really an adjective that Tom would personally assign the girl – her actions held an inner fire. He could still remember the brightness of her eyes when he had shown her –

His thoughts quickly stopped that train of thought. It was pointless, stupid, and distracting. He was much too busy to satiate his curiosity now – he needed to find his genealogy and he needed access to the Restricted section for it. He had thought of convincing an older student to fetch the book for him but he had thought against it. There was no reason to air _his_ dirty laundry when he had just recently gained a suitable status. No he had to be much more patient than that.

His brain shifted into a different gear as they made their way towards the Potions classroom. Mulciber and Avery flanked him as the others mingled behind (often jeering at the young Hufflepuffs that dared to look them in the eye). Tom had gotten very good at ignoring others while still keeping an ear on the conversation (just in case) allowing him to hear Slughorn's jolly voice, "Pair up now! Slytherins with Ravenclaws!"

Tom, of course, didn't move. There was no point – he had wanted to work alone and conveniently there was one Ravenclaw missing.

The class had just started on their Swelling Solutions when the door to the classroom creaked open and in walked _Anala Agarwal._

"Oho! Miss Agarwal, I'm afraid that I can't excuse your tardiness, my girl."

She looked paler than normal as her eyes were bloodshot but she still attempted (and triumphed) a smile at the straw-haired leech.

"Sorry sir. I have a note here from Madam Milligan," She quietly handed over the piece of parchment.

"Fine, fine. Partner up with Mr Riddle, he'll be sure to catch you up," The old man smiled toothily, fiddling with his mustache as he patted his engorged girth.

"Thank you, sir," She nodded but her tone was void of any real expression. She walked over to the stool which Tom had graciously emptied for her, dumping her bag on the floor. She didn't chance a look at him as she merely stared at their potion in blatant disinterest.

Tom's curiosity was piqued however. Her behavior was highly unusual for someone of her habits. She was never one to arrive late to class (or meals for that matter) and she looked positively dreadful.

"Add the crushed puffer-fish eyes." If he was expecting any sort of reply, he didn't receive one. She wordlessly added the correct amount without so much of a glance in his direction. He wasn't so sure why it bothered him – _he_ always ignored _her_ after all – but he despised the fact that she wouldn't look him in the eye. Did she hold some illusion that she was superior to him?

He gripped his quill rather tightly at that thought.

"Ana? Are you alright?" One of those Ravenclaws whispered – he couldn't remember which one. MacDougal, perhaps?

"I'm alright, Milly. Just couldn't sleep properly last night," She calmly replied, looking much more alert now. It was pathetic really – the lengths she went to reassure others. She offered the other girl a smile which was tentatively returned. As soon as the other girl's attention was diverted, however, her expression slipped into its previous pained neutrality.

Tom had always felt a bit of fascination towards her – who wouldn't? Learning that someone who was quite literally your other half wasn't a very normal experience. He was apprehensive of her and he certainly didn't trust her any more than he did Dumbledore. But still, he supposed, he was glad that she wasn't horridly dull – he couldn't imagine how horrible it would be if that was the case. She was smart enough but completely lacked any ambition or drive. Oftentimes, you would see her nose in a book (usually Arthimancy or, occasionally, Ancient Runes) but it seemed as though that was _all_ she did. She never bothered to raise her hand in class (then again, he didn't either) and she didn't seem to be a grade-grubber like a few of those Hufflepuffs.

She fell strictly into the wait-and-see category. Tom wished he knew what her intentions were so he could manipulate her like he did the others but information on her background was nonexistent at best. No one, not even those _fools_ she called friends, seemed to know the full truth about her (except perhaps Dumbledore and he wasn't stupid enough to bark up _that_ tree). Even so, he hadn't been able to completely forget that . . . incident. He didn't consciously think about it but whenever his thoughts drifted to her existence or he'd glance down at his wrist (merely to look at the time, mind you), he'd feel _that_.

_That _was the warm, sun-like feeling he had felt which doubtlessly emanated from her. Tom had never known what it truly meant to be at peace before but now he knew that it was an addiction – he had craved for it. And it was that very thought that had horrified him, causing him to avoid her and cursing himself for even thinking about her. Undoubtedly, it had been a trick of the supposed Soul bond. Dumbledore's words of the Soul bond having the ability to increase his potential were a frequent train of thought. If he was correct, the Soul bond could lead to be a very significant advantage for him. But there were problems and he did not enjoy the idea of being tethered to someone else (someone that he couldn't control . . . _yet_).

"Put in the bat spleen." Her voice shook him out of thought – though he didn't let that show outwardly. Inwardly, however, he was reeling. How had he managed to lose track of an entire hour of time? Wordlessly, he dropped the item rather unceremoniously into the cauldron. After everything was said and done, she bottled up a small vial of their potion – her script was efficient but still neat. It was entirely different from his elegant yet quick handwriting but he still found himself appreciating it nonetheless. He found himself watching her as she gathered her things – quickly, as though staying any longer would invite disaster. He felt himself wanting to ask her why she wasn't at breakfast that morning – why she couldn't sleep properly at night.

The thought sickened him to the core – where was his indifference?

_Madam Milligan did say that illness could affect the bond, _the thought whispered in his ear. Yes, he was merely looking after her wellbeing for the sake of his.

"Agarwal," he muttered lowly so that only she could hear it. He didn't want to broadcast their . . . engagement to her friends and certainly not to the Slytherins.

She glanced up, their eyes locking for a few moments.

Tom, however, faltered ever so slightly. Momentarily forgetting what he set out to ask her. He looked away quickly, gathering his things.

"Go to Madam Milligan after class," His voice firmly commanded though it was low.

She stared at him for a while before barely nodding, but Tom saw it all the same.

He left without even glancing at her – his job done and his wellbeing looked after. But a worry gnawed on his insides.

* * *

Christmas was never a joyful time for Tom – it went without saying that he despised the season since it only reminded him of the things he hated. Being able to stay at Hogwarts during this dreadful time truly was a blessing for him and he certainly was thankful for it. Receiving gifts was never something he was used to but he found that he rather enjoyed. This year, much like last year, he had received presents. The only difference this year was that he had received a greater volume. His popularity was starting to grow but it was still too early, he was only a second-year with very little influence. But Tom was determined to change that, he had been forming plans all summer for this reason.

He went down for breakfast on Christmas morning, knowing that very few would be up so early. Tom relished the solitude of the castle during the holidays – it also helped that Dumbledore didn't watch him so closely during this time. Memories of last Christmas struck him as he ventured to the Great Hall, remembering her gift from last year. It had been a thoughtful gift that Tom had been rather reluctant to use but it stayed faithfully at the bottom of his trunk – staring at him whenever he opened it. The scarf wasn't poorly made and was soft to the touch. He couldn't find fault in it as much as he tried to.

He was conflicted when his breakfast wasn't interrupted. A small part of him (no matter how much he despised it) had been hoping that she would show up. He had enjoyed their talks (even though he had gained the loyalty of his gang, they weren't much for intellectual stimulation) and she seemed knowledgeable about a number of things concerning the magical world. She wasn't exactly a comprehensive book of information but he had been surprised by her insights.

He made his trek down to the dungeons with the intention of starting his homework (only so he could then work on other more rewarding pursuits). Another boon of staying in the castle during holidays was that the Slytherin dungeons were typically empty – nearly everyone in the house went back home for the holidays. Most complained about how cold it was but Tom never really minded. The only thing he despised about the dungeons was that he had to share a dorm with four other boys. Tom never really understood the concept of sharing (except only when it benefited him) but he kept his thoughts to himself. When he became Head Boy, he wouldn't have to share a room – only a common room with the Head Girl. But for now, Tom could be patient. Patience, he knew, was a necessary evil and it would eventually reward him in the end.

"Salazar," Tom murmured the password, ignoring the stiff chill that accompanied the Slytherin dungeons of the castle. He was midway through gathering his books from his (now empty) room when he noticed something peculiar upon his bed – a familiarly wrapped package. Tom felt his throat close as he numbly picked up the parcel, wondering how it was possible for it to be in the Slytherin dorms. It was accompanied by a single piece of parchment; the handwriting was hurried but still painfully neat and painfully recognizable.

_Happy Christmas, Tom!_

_-A.A._

The parcel itself could have been easily overlooked and was probably the clumsiest wrapped of all the presents he had received that year but it was probably more valuable than any of the others if only due to the fact that it was unexpected and had been given without any intention of receiving anything in return. This didn't sit well with Tom who had ingrained the coldest fact of life in his very skull – everything and everyone has a price and nothing is truly free. He did not like being _indebted_ to anyone; he refused to let anyone have that much power over him. It was the reason why he had shown her the fireworks last year – simply so that they would be on even footing again. Tom Riddle was not one to renounce his debts – he repaid them, he always did. He should have been infuriated by the gift. He should have thrown the parcel in the common room fire because that was where it truly belonged. But he didn't. He found himself peeling back the wrapping paper and staring at a simple, black journal. It was leather-bound and there were no distinguishing marks on the outside.

He opened it (for curiosity's sake, he told himself) and out fell another slip of parchment with the same infuriating handwriting.

_Tom – _

_This journal is Charmed – if you write your name on the inside of the cover, only you will be able to read its contents. The ink disappears so that if anyone goes snooping, they'll only see a blank page._

An enchanted journal – perhaps he wouldn't be so rash. He had few Magical items in his possession and each one was a boon to him, especially if the diary was Charmed like she said it was. The item in questions suddenly became much more valuable to him.

He grit his teeth as his fists clenched at his sides, knowing that he would have to repay her in some way. Last year, it had taken him nearly a week to come up with a proper gift in return and it was merely by chance. He had overheard a few of professors talking about the fireworks display over the Black Lake every year on New Year's Eve. The celebration originated from Hogsmeade but could be seen from any of Hogwarts's many towers. It had been fairly simple reasoning after that point – girls liked pretty things, didn't they? But this year he was at a loss – what could he possibly give her in return? The thought of being indebted to that girl didn't sit well with him at all. What game was she possibly playing?

With a heavy scowl settled on his normally neutral features, Tom settled down to do his schoolwork as he cursed the existence of _Anala Agarwal_.

* * *

**And this concludes their second-year! Don't expect a lot of chapters written in Tom's perspective - this was mostly a one-off thing since their second year was crammed into a single chapter.**

**Special thanks to: **Fire the Canon, pesuasion, **and** MickeyMonroe.

**Please review.**

**[Edit: 10/5/2013]**


	9. Fiducia

**CHAPTER NINE: Fiducia (Trust)**

_The lotus longs to be free._

_Year Three_

* * *

Padma blinked in front of the mirror as she brushed her ever-growing hair. She tutted at the splitting strands – she was due for a trim. Alice and Mildred always cooed over her hair in slight envy – Padma had noticed that short hair was much more common in this era but they claimed her long hair gave her a more 'exotic' beauty. Padma had scoffed at their words and wondered what they would think should she chop it off completely.

It was almost hard to believe that two years had already passed since she would be attending her third-year of Hogwarts in a little over a week. She had been spending her summers at Dumbledore's manor _much_ to her reluctance. Padma had been grateful for his generosity but she was growing wary of his overly trustful nature – it wasn't normal behavior in any case. She had been ashamedly glad that he rarely spent any time at the manor, leaving her alone in the empty house with only an ancient house-elf named Bailey. Bailey had been delighted at the thought of attending to a child (especially a young girl) and doted on her constantly. Padma, for the most part, didn't really explore the manor since she chose to limit her activities to only three rooms – her bedroom, the library and the kitchen. The house felt thick with despair and it made her uneasy. The paintings were always watching her as she passed them, though they never spoke a word in her presence she could hear their whispers as soon as her back was turned.

She wrote to Alice and Mildred every other week – she had wanted to write more but she had come to a horrific realization that if she got too attached to her friends it would only make it harder to leave in four years. She was taking slow steps to distance herself emotionally – it had been painful but Padma endured. Going home was her main priority; she couldn't let herself forget that.

"Does Missus wants Bailey to comes to t' Alley with Missus?" Bailey's squeaky voice asked as Padma stared at the large fireplace with cackling green flames. She was going to use the Floo to go to Diagon Alley to pick up her school things.

"No, Bailey, but thank you for offering. I'll be back in a bit before dinner time," Padma smiled at the wrinkled creature with droopy ears.

"Bailey'll haves dinner nice and hot for Missus but Missus shouldna spoil her dinner – she shouldn't!" Bailey was undeniably sweet and quite helpful but there were also times when she could be overbearing. She had the tendency to treat Padma like a child – though to be fair the house-elf was probably centuries old (making most creatures seem like a child to her) and Padma _was_ stuck in the body of thirteen-year-old. Padma waved cheerfully at the elf as she stepped into the flames.

Moments later, she found herself in a nearly empty Diagon Alley. There were scant few that wandered around and the few that did were speaking in hushed whispers – Grindelwald was gaining popularity in Eastern Europe much to the chagrin of the M.O.M. And there were rumors spreading that he was eying the British Wizarding World next.

The next few hours were spent collecting books and various other things as Padma was quietly introspective. The seven years that she would have to spend here were simply going too slow but Padma kept a stiff upper lip, the years would pass soon enough and then she would finally return home. Unfortunately for Padma, the memory of home was starting to grow ever hazy. Though she had been practicing Occlumency over the summer, it didn't do much for the memories she had already lost.

Learning Occlumency had been a rather grueling project. It was incredibly useful since it allowed the user to sort his or her memories in any manner they wished – though the trick was organizing it in a unique manner that would _only_ make sense to the individual. In addition to being a useful memory tool (the primary reason why the Hat had suggested it to her), it was an effective counter against any wayward Legilimens. She didn't ask Dumbledore about her interest in the art, though she was starting to regret that decision. He was rather knowledgeable about a number of magical subjects and likely had useful information about Occlumency that she otherwise couldn't find in _Guide to Advanced Occlumency_. She had known that it was a very difficult skill that very few could master (she had heard rumors that the head of the Department of Mysteries was a renowned Occlumens) but she was starting to think her efforts would never bear fruit.

Part of this shopping venture was to cheer herself up. Despite the fact that Padma had owned very few pets in her lifetime (or at least from what she could remember), she did know that she had been very fond of the family owl, Shanti, up until the owl's death. She had talked herself into buying a new owl simply because she needed companionship and oftentimes the best company couldn't speak. Eeylops Owl Emporium was familiar to her or at least she believed it was. The store was small, cramped with numerous cages, and dimly-lit because of the nocturnal nature of the owls. Owls flew overhead as they perched on the rafters, staring at the witches and wizards who entered and exited the shop.

"This your first owl, Miss?" The jolly man behind the counter asked as he adjusted his spectacles. He was stacking boxes of what Padma presumed to be Owl Treats, pausing to wipe his brow with his handkerchief.

Padma nodded, glancing around at the different birds. She was looking for a companion rather than something to deliver her post – maybe she would have been better off with a Kneazle mix. Padma had never been very fond of cats despite Parvati's general love for them – she had owned two named Pythia and Qarin.

She found herself drawn to an older owl perched near the back of the store, hidden mostly from view because of the numerous metal cages that obstructed her sight. The owl had hauntingly orange eyes that were bright with intelligence. Some of its plumage was starting to fall out likely due to age but it was still a magnificent looking creature – large and imposing with its sharp stare. Its talons were as black as ink while its feathers were mostly bronze in color.

The shopkeeper seemed to sense her interest as he stated, "That owl's been in the shop for a while – he's rather picky with his owners – likely senile with age, I'm afraid."

Padma moved closer to the owl until she was less than a metre away, gazing at its ocher eyes. The owl gazed back unflinching as though it knew something that she wasn't yet aware of. She felt drawn to the creature but didn't dare approach it, fearing its sharp talons and beak.

"How old is he?" Padma found herself asking, not breaking eye contact with the strange bird.

The wizard seemed thoughtful as he rubbed his clean-shaven chin, "I'm not really sure actually. They're said to live for quite some time – some reaching seventy-years in age and that particular bird has been the shop for as long as I can remember."

"Hmm," Padma murmured, utterly enthralled with the owl's knowing stare. Eagle-owls were finicky creatures and awfully proud but they were highly prized for their feathers because of their use in potions. They were, without a doubt, extremely intelligent. She recognized this particular breed – her uncle had owned several at his manor back in India and she enjoyed staying up on the roof and watching the birds fly without a care in the world. It had made her feel free – envious too – just watching them as they drifted into the air as easily as breathing.

"How much?" Padma asked.

The shopkeeper, however, seemed slightly surprised, "You sure, Miss? He's awfully old, that one. Perhaps you'd rather like a look at something –"

"No thank you," Padma calmly chirped.

The shopkeeper was about to argue but his words hadn't even left his mouth when the majestic bird decided to leave its perch on the stand to another more favorable one – Padma's shoulder. Padma had been delighted with this reaction as she started to gently stroke the bird's head while the shopkeeper looked decidedly perturbed.

"Odd," the shopkeeper muttered, "I've never seen him act so favorably towards anyone before."

Padma began to withdraw coins from her purse, "Does he have a name?"

He looked thoughtful as he tapped his chin, "Not that I know of. I don't think he'll mind if you give him a new one."

Though she had bought a new cage as well as treats for her new owl, she left him perched on her shoulder as she ignored the confused stares from the few witches and wizards that had dared to venture out into public. The ambiance wasn't nearly as fearful as it had been during Voldemort's days of glory – Grindelwald was still a distant threat as well as the fact that wizards were inherently lazy and ignorant, they couldn't be bothered to do something difficult until it became absolutely necessary. Padma had never put too much thought into the current events – she knew that Dumbledore would eventually defeat the deluded fool. Perhaps she should have been a bit more sensitive towards the time period but Padma couldn't bring herself to care very much (Grindelwald still seemed to be a distant memory in an old textbook somewhere) – she had no intention of sticking out her neck only to disrupt the fragile time stream.

Her newly acquired companion softly nipped her hair and tugged – not enough to hurt but it broke Padma out of her reverie as she headed into other shops. Though Padma was well aware of the gazes now, there was something unsettling about one of them – she felt as though someone was following her around. A shudder raked along her spine as she furtively glanced around. She was never able to fully ignore the feeling but she continued with her shopping nonetheless.

* * *

"Missus! Bailey will haves dinner up in a jiffy!" Bailey's squeaky voice called as it carried through the manor. Padma had long understood why Bailey had been a bit clingy – the house's oppressive atmosphere could make anyone feel dreadfully lonely. Thankfully, with the two of them there usually wasn't too much stifling silence – Bailey was almost always bustling around while Padma took the liberty of making as much noise as she could without seeming too rude.

"Alright!" Padma called back as she adjusted the stand in her room for her new companion. The intelligent creature knew almost immediately that this stand was for him and soon perched on it. Padma gently stroked his feathers in fascination as she murmured, "And what shall I call you? Such an intelligent creature, you'll need a fitting name."

_My name is Garuda, Mistress. _A deep voice that was oddly musical filled Padma's ears unexpectedly, causing her to jolt away from the bird in surprise. She blinked several times as her heart beat thunderously.

"Did you just – I mean, you can talk?" She couldn't be going crazy – not now, not now, not yet. She still needed to go home first.

The voice sighed dramatically, _And here I was thinking that you were different._

Padma's jaw dropped as she sputtered out words, "But how is this possible? Aren't you just an ordinary Eagle-owl?"

The voice scoffed as he began to fidget in irritation.

_Ordinary Eagle-owls don't live to be eighty-two, now do they?_

"But how are you speaking to me? Why didn't you speak back in the shop?"

_I am afraid that you are the only one that can hear me – besides, that buffoon back in the shop already thinks I'm going nutters. The _nerve _of that boy._

Padma bit back a laugh as she spoke, "Have you always been able to do this – have you always been able to talk, I mean?"

_I am only able to talk to my Familiar. The closest term that you wizards have for this mode of communication is _Legilimency_ but this isn't nearly as primitive. _

"Familiar," Padma repeated thoughtfully. Familiars were extremely common for wizards, most taking the form as simple pets such as Kneazle mixes or owls (some toads or even aquatic creatures at that) but she had never heard of a familiar capable of being sentient. Perhaps the more magical creatures such as Phoenixes were capable of such things but a common Eagle-owl? This was preposterous and highly unlikely yet here she was over fifty years in the past – perhaps this wasn't _too_ impossible. Padma sighed, what _else_ was the universe willing to throw her way? A bloody Pegasus that shot pixies out of its arse? "But how have you lived this long without a Familiar? Surely there was someone else before me?"

_As far as I know, you are my only Familiar – my previous masters lacked a certain . . . touch about them. They were my owners, nothing more._

Padma gently sat down at the edge of her bed, before asking, "Is this normal? I mean, do Familiars normally talk to their wizards?"

If Garuda had an eyebrow, he probably would have raised it.

_Normal? My dear girl, you are a Time-Traveler and Soul bonded, I believe that you have left normal long before our encounter._

Padma's eyes nearly shot of their sockets as she swallowed thickly, "You mean you know? You know that I'm –" She didn't dare say it aloud, of course, but her anxiety exploded.

_Do not worry. If I _may_ remind you, I am physically incapable of betraying your secrets._

"But how do you know? Are you snooping around in my thoughts?" Padma nearly squawked in the outrage of having a bird read her innermost thoughts.

_Your Soul bond makes you surprisingly vulnerable to mental attacks and your attempt at Occlumency is laughable. Your memories are too organized and can be easily accessed. If you do not wish to broadcast your weakness then I suggest you redress your attempts at learning this skill. _

"Can you teach me then? Teach me to, you know, protect my thoughts and my memories?" Padma asked, her fists gathering the coverlet on her bed.

_Perhaps, but I am not sure if a human can learn such a thing. _He then blinked very slowly. _And I must assert that I am not some common bird – I am a descendant of a _deva, _a god among mortals. _His chest seemed to puff out at the last statement.

"You mean all those stories Mum told us were true then?" Padma suddenly stated, momentarily remembered a hazy memory of her mother telling the twins a story before bedtime each night when they were much younger. The stories often involved fantastical creatures and courageous heroes – much to Parvati's delight.

_All stories _must_ start somewhere. Such creatures are no longer alive – they hide, they sleep, they may even have disappeared from this world as far as I know – but their traces can be found at the root of every tree and in the essence of every stone._

Padma took a long pause before Bailey's voice interrupted them, "Missus! Dinner!"

Padma left her room shaking slightly as Garuda's piercing eyes watched her retreating back with interest.

* * *

Garuda, despite his very condescending attitude and penchant for messing with her hair, was quite the conversationalist. Padma found his company rather agreeable since she had finally found someone that she could complain to without compromising the time stream. He wasn't the most sympathetic ear that was for sure, but the fact that she was actually able to _tell_ someone (even if it was an elderly bird with a large ego) had been very much appreciated. He also wasn't the greatest teacher in the world since it was difficult for him to relay the techniques in such a way that a _human_ could understand. But it was much better than the book and Padma had always liked a challenge. Now with a proper teacher and some more practice, Padma knew that she would have the skill in the near future. She had even progressed to the point where she no longer had to talk aloud to him – they would converse solely in their thoughts.

The taxi ride to King's Cross had been far from quiet – the driver had been quite perplexed at her "pet" much to Garuda's chagrin and her amusement. They eventually arrived with plenty of time to spare; feeling that she would like someone to talk to on the train and the fact that the ancient bird was feeling rather lazy, she neglected to put Garuda with the other pets. Her luck had been incredible since she had actually found an empty compartment to hide in as she considered putting a _Confundus_ charm on the door since she wanted to be left alone. She decided against it, knowing that it would be unfair to do so. She had contemplated looking for Mildred and Alice but ultimately chose not to – she still felt guilty about their friendship, knowing that she had been keeping secrets from the start. It wasn't fair to allow them to be such good friends when Padma was being such a horrible one herself.

_If they are truly your friends, they will understand, _Garuda's calming voice soothed her nerves. She gave the old owl a treat but silently promised to herself that she would stop spoiling him – if he got too fat he wouldn't be able to fly anymore.

_I heard that, _his tone suggested that he was pouting as he ruffled his feathers irritably, _I will not get fat._

Padma chuckled lightly as she settled down next to the window, drawing her knees closer as she lounged comfortably. Just a few more years – just a few more years until she could finally go home.

"Is this seat taken?" Padma turned her face to see a young blond staring at her with a rather arrogant expression on his face. His hair seemed expertly tousled though she bet he had used quite a bit of Sleekeazy's to get the end result. Judging by his nearly white-blond hair and grey eyes, he was a Malfoy – likely Draco's grandfather.

"Not particularly," Padma answered, avoiding his gaze. She had never really run afoul of the Malfoys but her father had always warned her about forming ties with the more _extreme_ pureblood families. Being a Moderate family that was neither truly Light nor Dark was fairly tricky – she had grown up with families that were considered darker than most like the Parkinsons while she knew of many Light families as well. The Malfoy family had been rather disgraced – a family full of former Death Eaters is never good for publicity but gold had a strange way of changing people's opinions. The last she had heard of Draco Malfoy, he was seeing a Greengrass girl and rumors were spreading about their eventual engagement. Padma only knew about this because of a brokenhearted Pansy Parkinson.

He sat down gracefully, looking every inch the aristocrat that he was. Padma was no fool, however, he wanted something from her and whatever it was he wanted to do it in a privacy that they would never be able to truly accomplish in Hogwarts.

"Allow me to introduce myself – I am Abraxas Malfoy. And you are?" He had this coy smile that made Padma's blood boil – she was fairly sure he knew exactly who she was and Padma was growing impatient. What did this git want from her?

_He looks like quite the peacock, Mistress. _Padma didn't snicker from Garuda's obvious jibe but she fixed her steely gaze on Malfoy as she answered confidently, "Anala Agarwal."

He reached out as though to kiss her knuckles but Padma kept her hands firmly at her sides, noting Malfoy's souring expression with a soft hint of mirth.

"Miss Agarwal, I have come to extend an invitation to you. One that we do hope that you will accept," he nearly sneered that last part but he seemed to have remembered his manners half-way. His voice had the viscosity of honey and was just as cloyingly sweet.

"An invitation?" Padma repeated in slight disbelief, "What sort of invitation?"

He seemed to smile at her interest, his bluish-grey eyes becoming soft yet sharp at the same time, "Professor Slughorn has asked me pass on an invitation for dinner in his private quarters. Rest assured that this invitation has been extended to others of our calibre and that it is _quite_ the event."

The Slug Club and memories of its supposed exclusivity flooded her head with painful repercussions. Padma flinched in her seat, her hand instantly shooting towards her temple as a means to delay the full impact of remembering.

_Mistress, are you alright?_

"Miss Agarwal, do you require medical attention?" Malfoy softly asked her as his eyes were glazed in fake concern though she noticed nervousness in his tone. He likely didn't want to be accused of anything untoward if they were found like this – oh, the rumors that would spread about the aristocratic pureblood and the injured foreign girl!

Padma suppressed a scoff and forced her tone to be neutral, "I'm quite alright Mr. Malfoy but I shall need to think upon this invitation. I don't expect to have very much free time this year, I'm afraid."

He nodded as he got up to open the door, "By all means Miss Agarwal, think upon the proposal but I assure you that it is not something to be missed." Malfoy left as he shut the door softly behind him. Padma rubbed her temple in circles as Garuda began to fuss over her in his gruff tone.

_I see that we will need to continue the lessons post-haste._

Padma remained quiet as she willed the pain away and, fortunately, it did.

She sat alone as she mulled over her thoughts for the rest of the ride with Garuda fussing in the background.

* * *

"Hagrid, Rubeus!" Dumbledore's voice echoed throughout the Great Hall as gasps of disbelief followed when the rest of the students spied the large boy venture up to the pathetically miniature stool and Sorting Hat. He was, in a word, large. And the more knowing students (read: the uptight, conservative pure-blooded members of the community) knew a half-blood when they saw one. The old warlock, however, gave the boy a charming smile even though whispers broke out on the tables.

"What kind of name is Hagrid?" Alice wrinkled her nose.

Mildred shrugged, "Not a very common one, I suppose."

"**Gryffindor!**" The Sorting Hat's voice boomed after a few brief moments. Hagrid lumbered over to the large table as the students attempted to give the boy the widest berth possible.

"Bloody hell," Padma muttered under her breath another migraine attacked her senses. Despite the recent and rather intensive lessons with Garuda, she knew she was a long ways off until she could be fully free from this nuisance.

"You alright, Aggie? You look a bit peaked," Iggy whispered loudly over the table much to the disapproval of the prefects.

"I'll be alright. I think I'll go to Madam Milligan for a potion after the feast."

Mildred looked concerned, "Are you sure? Maybe you should stay the night in the infirmary . . ."

"It's the first day back, Milly. I'm not staying in the infirmary tonight."

She pouted, "Alright but promise you won't skip out on the potion. Classes _do_ start tomorrow, you know."

"Yes mother," Padma scowled playfully.

Mildred huffed but her feelings weren't hurt. She was prone to mothering others since it was just in her nature.

After the last name was called – a boy with the surname Wallaby – Dippet rose to make a harangue like he did every year.

"Is it just me or does his speech get more dreadful as the years go by?" Iggy wondered aloud, ignoring the dirty looks from the prefects.

Alice shook her head, "At this point, I don't even think the _staff_ listens to what Dippet says." It was true as well, Selwyn was quietly whispering to Professor Harang of Ancient Runes while Professor Vablatsky of Divinations was looking longingly at her empty wine goblet. Only Dumbledore seemed to be the only one really paying attention to the headmaster as the rest of the Great Hall merely waited for the food to arrive. Eventually the old wizard sat down as food was magically delivered to the four tables. The noise level increased immediately as the boredom that usually accompanied the headmaster's speech was slowly dissipating away.

"Well," Iggy said (thankfully) in between bites of chicken, "At least there's food after all of his speeches."

"Just wait until graduation," Tao smiled slyly, "My brother tells me that Dippet speaks for two hours at minimum."

Iggy gave a squawk of disbelief as the rest of the table laughed.

"I can't wait to go to Hogsmeade this year! My sister says that we _must_ go to Madam Puddifoot's!" Ariella Reedham, a short girl that liked to wear ribbons, said excitedly. She was of their year though Padma didn't know her too well. Her older sister was a prefect and was going to graduate next year.

The rest of the girls gave their approval while most of the boys were stiffly disagreeing.

Oh yes, they were in their third year now – Hogsmeade trips were now open to them. Padma hadn't gotten her permission slip signed for the obvious reasons – Dumbledore wasn't technically her legal guardian and she didn't wish to draw attention to herself by asking him to. Missing out on trips to Hogsmeade seemed to be a small sacrifice in comparison to being arrested by the Ministry of Magic for impersonating a student and being an anomaly of Time.

Banishing the unwelcome thoughts from her head, she asked Iggy to pass her the roasted potatoes.

Ignoring the sting from her headaches, she tried to distract herself with conversations as she tried to ignore the foreboding feeling that had long taken root in her gut.

Something was going to happen this year – she could feel it in her bones.

* * *

**Special thanks to: **Fire the Canon**, **Autumn**, **MickeyMonroe**, **Felix02**, **Niue**, and **DGfleetflox**.**

**Tom's perspective will be briefly used throughout the story but don't expect them to be a chapter long. I'm going to tack on some explanation for the symbolism in the story so feel free to skip, if you want.**

**_What does the name Anala Agarwal mean?/What does it signify?_**

_Anala is translated as 'fiery' and the surname Agarwal typically implies a descendent of Maharaja Agrasena (the legendary king of the Solar Dynasty). Interestingly enough, Maharaja Agrasena was said to have taken a **Naga** princess as a wife. **Nagas** are rumored to be creatures that have both human and snake-like qualities but according to texts are not necessarily evil nor necessarily good._

**Please review.**

**[Edit: 10/5/2013]**


	10. Ira

**CHAPTER TEN: Ira (Anger)**

_The lotus does not appreciate a snake encroaching upon her territory._

_Year Three_

* * *

Arthur Harang taught what many students at Hogwarts believed to be the most boring subject known in existence – Ancient Runes. It likely didn't help that Professor Harang had a terrible habit of lecturing a tad bit too much (reminiscent of Binns' infamous talks about the goblin rebellions) and the fact that translating was rather tedious and time consuming work. Few students would ever come to appreciate the flexibility and power that Ancient Runes held and, as such, it was one of the least liked classes (just after Arithmancy and History of Magic) and even fewer students ever sat down to take their O.W.L.s (or their N.E.W.T.s for that matter) in this subject for one simple reason – learning thousands of runes and being able to utilize them in an efficient and creative manner was a rather selective skill. A witch or wizard could dedicate their entire life to Ancient Runes but without a certain finesse, it was useless information.

Runes, for all their monotony and overly complex designs, were extremely useful in Warding and spellcrafting. It was used for creating great things – even the castle itself was covered in Runes from the days of the great founders.

Harang was not a handsome wizard and he knew this fact well. His large spectacles and overgrown tongue (which gave him a strange speech pattern) were not considered attractive in any community but he was a master of his subject. He would later publish many books that would be lauded for their insight in the future.

Padma, who was currently seated in the front row and studiously taking notes, was in Paradise. Arthur Harang was considered a genius in her field and to actually _be_ in his class was like a fantasy come true. Unfortunately, like most dreams coming to life, this one wasn't exactly up to expectations. For one thing, Harang didn't know when to shut his mouth and wasn't great at engaging his students – and on the other hand, this was an introductory class to Ancient runes. They wouldn't be doing anything of actual interest until perhaps their sixth or seventh year when they would get to experiment with layering Runes and Arithmancy. Nonetheless, Padma was rather enthusiastic unlike her fifteen other classmates.

The class itself was a mix of houses – a majority of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs but plenty of Slytherins (Gryffindors were few) – but there was an overwhelming amount of males when compared to females. This was probably due to the fact that most of the girls in Padma's year had signed up for Divinations with the ever so famous Professor Cassandra Vablatsky – how Dippet had ever managed to sign the legendary Seer up for a teaching position was beyond her. From what Padma could discern, the witch seemed ordinary enough though she was overly fond of drinking. She could see some resemblance to the Professor Trelawney of her time but it wasn't very obvious.

"You will each be assigned a partner. And with this partner, you will be researching a topic of your choice. This topic will be presented at the end of the year before the entire class and I expect an essay of at least four feet from the _both_ of you complete with references. There is a reason why I am giving you so much time so do _not_ wait until the last month to get started," Professor Harang ran a hand through his oily hair as he paused slightly. "You will not be able to work individually so I suggest that you fully _cooperate_ with one another. Your grade will heavily depend on your mastery of Ancient Runes as well as your ability to work with your partner. In the magical world, cooperation between translators of these Runes is crucial – working alone is not only impossible but foolish."

There were quite a few groans that were mostly ignored by Professor Harang while the majority of the students were quiet though decidedly horrified at the idea of a teacher assigning a project on the first day of classes. No one looked the slightest bit excited except for maybe Quinn Nolten who was always excited about anything related to schoolwork. Nolten was seated next to Padma and was hurriedly scribbling away on a parchment as she tried to write Harang's monologue verbatim. The Hufflepuff girl wasn't all that bad, Padma knew, but her personality was rather jarring. Knowing Nolten, if Padma happened to be paired with her they would end up doing three separate essays until the workaholic was satisfied with the end result. While Padma didn't blame the girl – she _was_ rather excited about this class – she shuddered at the thought of having to spend so much time cooped up in the library while Nolten directed every translation.

Professor Harang took out a long piece of parchment and began calling out names.

" . . . Bones and Nolten."

Padma sighed in relief though she felt guilty when she saw Jeremiah Bones's face.

"Diggory and Scroggs." A Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor, not bad.

"Nuttel and Lestrange." That was a rather odd match up, though it was lucky that Horatio Nuttel was a pureblood. Padma couldn't imagine Raymond Lestrange taking a Muggleborn for a partner.

"And lastly, Agarwal and Riddle."

Padma blinked once, twice, thrice as though she thought Professor Harang was playing some cruel joke. She glanced slowly towards her right, meeting Riddle's stoic face. He didn't outwardly react to the news of their partnership but Padma couldn't be certain whether that was actually a good sign. They hadn't really spoken a word to each other (except for that strange encounter in Potions) and Padma had gotten out of the habit of nodding to him in the halls since he always pointedly ignored her.

The bell rang shortly afterwards but Padma was in no hurry to leave like the rest of the students. She wanted to linger after class so she could talk to Professor Harang about his current projects. She was in the process of gathering her parchment when a tall shadow was cast over her desk. To her great surprise, however, the shadow belonged to Tom who was standing rather imposingly – physically blocking the exit of the classroom. Professor Harang and the rest of the students were nowhere to be seen.

"We will meet in the library every Wednesday before dinner. Do not be late." He turned to leave and Padma felt a righteous anger erupt from her core. Who did he think he was to simply go off and decide on something like that for the both of them? Didn't her opinions count? This was a _partner_-project for Merlin's sake.

"Talking to me now, are you?" She stated in a haughty tone, "And here I thought Mr. High-and-Mighty Riddle didn't associate with the likes of me." She gracelessly stuffed her papers into her bag as she stepped around him, roughly brushing past him and not caring if their shoulders collided.

To be fairly honest, Padma couldn't give a damn about the project right now. After two years of not talking to each other (besides that stint in Potions all those months ago – but that didn't really count since it was mostly him talking at her), she had expected – _well, maybe not a full-blown apology_ – something. She had expectations and was willing to be lenient but him acting like a complete twat was not going to be tolerated if this so-called partnership was going to work. Padma was usually a rule-abiding witch but only so as long as the rules served their purpose. She was not going to be ordered around like a pack-mule for some egotistical tit that was emotionally handicapped. So she had hugged him – so _what_? He didn't have to act like it didn't happen – he didn't have to act like she had never given him a gift last year (which was given mostly in the most of rekindling whatever it was they had the year before). Ignoring her was an insult that Padma was no longer going to take lying down – if he wanted a pack-mule then he could damn well transfigure one out of the giant stick up his arse.

* * *

"Who's got your knickers in a twist?" Alice asked as they sat down for dinner that day. Padma refused to acknowledge the jibe as she heaped shepherd's pie onto her plate.

Milly made a face at Alice's use of language but also added, "I've never seen you like this before."

Padma sighed, knowing that when those two teamed up they wouldn't let up. Having both of them agree at the same time was an infrequent occurrence but whenever it did happen, they strove to outdo each other in their tenacity. On most days, Padma would find it admirable but today she found it to be rather grating.

"It's nothing really. Harang gave us partners in Ancient Runes today," Padma replied dismissively. Maybe she was just overreacting and making it a bigger deal than it really should have been.

Alice's eyes opened as she squawked, "You have a project already? It's only the first day of classes!"

"That does sound dreadful," Milly said, "but I thought you liked Runes?"

Padma shrugged.

Mildred frowned, her lips pouting slightly. "Then what's the problem?"

"My git of a partner, that's who," Padma growled.

"And who is this lovely individual that's got you all up in a tizzy?" Alice asked with a playful smile.

"Tom Riddle."

Almost immediately, Alice jumped to his defense like Padma knew she would. Over the two years, Alice had voluntarily joined the growing group of girls that was becoming known as Tom's fan base. Tom, who was extremely smart and extremely handsome, was gaining quite a following and his orphan status drew pity votes as well. Padma knew the number of smitten girls would only grow as the years dragged on. He probably made it worse since he always acted as if he didn't know about the numerous girls that fancied him. Alice was personally invested since she could never forget the fact that Tom had saved her life back in their first year. While Padma didn't begrudge her loyalty, she also knew that she wouldn't find a sympathetic ear from her. Milly, on the other hand, was a safer neutral.

After recounting the encounter in Ancient Runes, Milly was decidedly miffed at Tom's behavior, "Well that's rather rude – I've never seen him being anything less than polite to anyone else. Tom's practically the poster-boy of the school even the upperclassmen know who he is."

"Maybe he was just having an off-day?" Alice weakly suggested.

Padma huffed indignantly.

"Well you can't exactly do the project on your own, Ana. Maybe you should talk to him – get on neutral ground? I thought you two liked each other," Mildred said thoughtfully.

Padma frowned in confusion. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

Alice shrugged. "By the way you each glance at each other before either of you answers a question. I don't really know – it just seemed like you both knew each other from somewhere before."

Padma blinked, her confusion written plainly on her face. She had never really thought that their association was that obvious – they had mutually agreed to ignore each other so it was strange that both Mildred and Alice were able to see through that.

"Anyways," Mildred sighed exasperatedly, "Did you do anything to upset him personally?"

"You think this is somehow _my_ fault?"

Mildred quickly shook her head. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm just trying to look at this problem from all sides. You know _logically._"

Padma rolled her eyes but relented, "I guess my reaction wasn't the most mature at the time."

Her two friends nodded but Padma was still inwardly seething.

She had a bone to pick with Tom Riddle.

* * *

"What's his name?" Alice asked as she offered the Eagle-owl a treat, much to his pleasure. They were both sitting in the stands, enjoying the autumn weather. It was Quidditch tryouts for the Ravenclaw team and they had finally convinced Mildred to try out for the position of chaser. Garuda had accompanied them, much to Alice's delight since she positively loathed Quidditch but had come anyway to support Milly. Tao was running late but had agreed to sit next to them and watch. Iggy was already down at the pitch hoping to win a spot for beater.

"Garuda," Padma replied as she looked through her bookbag. "And don't feed him too many treats – he's heavy enough as it is."

Padma felt Garuda's indignant glare and she chuckled lightly.

"Oh hush, Ana. He's a gorgeous bird – aren't you, handsome?" Alice cooed at him. She stroked his head heartily, smoothing down his feathers rather roughly.

_Mistress, this human has good taste._

"Maybe you should buy one – get an owl, I mean," Padma suggested.

"Maybe. My mum's allergic to cats; it's a shame because I think those Kneazle mixes are so adorable!" Alice sighed before she brightened up considerably, "Look! It's the captain, Leo Boyle!"

Leopold Boyle, a half-blood, was a decidedly fit sixth-year. His ashen blond hair and gleaming green eyes were enough to make most witches swoon in their boots with a single glance. He was the stereotypical Quidditch captain type – strong, bold and commanding with his gestures. It also helped that he was a prime candidate for Head Boy with his grades. He waved to the mostly empty stands – Ravenclaws were not known for their appreciation of sports, particularly Quidditch. Despite the house's aversion to the activity, some 'Claws were notably fervent in their support – especially Arnold Shaw who probably could talk someone's ear off about trajectory angles and inertia if given the opportunity.

Alice practically swooned in her seat but she held off, "So how's the project coming along?"

Padma gazed out onto the field were the rest of the players were mounting their brooms, "Wouldn't really know – I haven't shown up to any of our 'sessions'."

"Do you really think that's wise?" Alice asked with a frown as she turned to face her, "I mean didn't Harang say that project is a large portion of both your grades?"

Padma shrugged, "Maybe it's not wise, but I don't have the patience to put up with him."

Alice snorted, "He can't be _that_ bad. I know I'm biased and all but c'mon Ana.

Padma tried to ignore her, "Look there's Milly!"

She pointed out onto the field where Milly had started running drills with the rest of the prospective players. Alice, however, wouldn't allow herself to get distracted, "You can't just keeping avoiding him for the rest of the year, Ana, it's silly."

Padma bit the inside of her cheek – Mildred was typically the one to scold, but if _Alice_ was the one reprimanding her then maybe she really had a rash decision after all.

"Alright, alright. I'll talk to him – happy, now?"

"Nope."

"You're incorrigible."

"Aw, I love you too Ana."

* * *

Madam Ashworth, librarian and part-time opera singer, loved only two things in her life – books and singing. Neither of which really went well together but that didn't stop her from belting out tunes as she tidied the stacks of books in the Hogwarts library. Asking her to stop singing was a sure way of getting kicked out of the library which was quite unfair but most students braved out the horrid singing (screeching) regardless. She was a vain woman and refused to wear glasses (or use potions to correct her vision) despite the fact that her eyesight was growing poorer and poorer each year. It was to the point where she couldn't discern faces and had the horrid luck of mistaking boys for girls and vice versa. She wasn't ancient, per se, but her mannerisms and tendency to cake on powder only highlighted the wrinkles in her face.

Padma quietly made her way past Madam Ashworth, wishing she could cast a wordless _Silencio_ but that magic was supposedly beyond a normal third-year. After being lectured by Mildred, Alice and surprisingly Iggy, Padma had reluctantly surrendered and promised that she would meet up with Tom for their project. But, to be honest she desperately hoped that Tom wasn't in the library at this time (he usually wasn't) or that he'd be rude again so she would have the chance to storm out again.

Her eyes, unfortunately, found him at one of the corner tables, hidden behind several bookcases and coincidently the furthest away from Madam Ashworth's dreadful singing. The table was piled high with stacks of books but there was still enough to space to set down her bag. She snagged the chair across from him even though he pointedly ignored her. It was strange that she didn't see any of his 'puppies' wandering around – perhaps they despised the library like the true thirteen-year-old boys they were (or maybe they were just terrorizing the first-years . . . again). His feigned obliviousness was probably supposed to hurt her but Padma, who never did anything halfway, was determined to see this through regardless of whatever disaster she had just invited. She leaned over just a tad to see what he was reading – it appeared to be a book magical creatures. Leaning over with her elbows on the table to prop herself up, she snuck a peek at the page trying to discern what creature he was studying so intently. She was able to make out a few letters, mostly that the creature ended in an 'isk' but before she could see the entire word – he slammed the book shut.

"Is there something you need?" His voice was controlled – firm yet tightly reigned – as though it was something that needed to be on leash.

"'We will meet in the library every Wednesday before dinner. Do not be late.' Isn't that what you said?" She parroted whimsically, mocking his voice.

"You made it _quite_ clear when you refrained from showing up the last three Wednesdays."

"I apologize for neglecting my duties but I do not regret what I did – I am your _partner_, Riddle, not your pack-mule," Her tone was somber as she traced the title on one of the books laid out before her.

He looked at her intensely, conspicuously scrutinizing her statement as though he would find some deceit if he looked hard enough.

"I suppose," he paused as though to contemplate his diction, "that I might have been a bit assertive."

Padma rolled her eyes, knowing that that was the closest she would get to hearing _Tom Riddle_ apologize for his own actions.

"Anyways, have you chosen what to research already? I'm not too picky –"He looked at her with an odd expression but she continued, "but I'd rather not do something that everyone's doing, you know?"

He pushed over a piece of parchment along with a dust-covered tome.

"Hmm, the _Rokstenen_, interesting choice." The _Rokstenen_ was an artefact, originally from Sweden, known as the longest piece of runework familiar to both Muggle and wizards that had survived since the Old Time – Muggles, of course, believed it be much younger and had posited the item from the 800s. The _Rokstenen_ had already been translated but it was an interesting topic nonetheless – especially since its interpretation was known to differ from person to person (apparently the Runes told everyone something different which was probably due to the magic that resided in it).

Working with Tom was surprisingly easier than Padma thought it would be initially. This was most likely due to the fact that they had both declared an unspoken armistice – and because, when it came down to it, Tom was a brilliant person. He was years beyond any other third-year that Padma knew and she felt that if she wasn't cheating with her time-traveling, there was a likely chance he was far cleverer than she ever would be. She had also realized how much she just missed talking to him even if it was just about some dumb old Swedish stone.

* * *

"So how's the project going?" They were up in the stands again – Mildred had actually made chaser much to everyone's glee. Iggy himself had snatched one of the beater positions and Padma couldn't be happier for her two friends. While Alice often grumbled about venturing up into the stands every Monday and Wednesday, Padma found she stayed quiet as soon as a certain captain took the field.

"Fine."

Alice quirked an eyebrow as she enquired, "Just fine? Weren't you complaining about said project only a few days ago?"

Padma shrugged, "We got over our differences and decided to be mature adults about the situation."

"So _that's_ where you've been wandering off to every Wednesday. Milly and I were always getting suspicious when you conveniently wouldn't show for practice."

"Where is Tao anyways?" Padma asked, "I haven't seen him since last Friday."

"I don't know," Alice grumbled, "Milly and I have been thinking of confronting Iggy about it later. Tao's been off lately and we're starting to get worried about him." Tao had been growing increasingly distant to everyone except Iggy – and every time they saw him, he always looked as though he had the life sucked out of him.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Padma consoled, "It's _Tao_. He's got a good head on his shoulders so I doubt that he's in any serious kind of trouble."

"I guess you're right," Alice muttered, "On a lighter note – how have your study dates with Tom been going?" Alice seemed to perk up at her question as she looked at Padma with a teasing smile on her lips.

Padma blinked since she was a bit uncomfortable with Alice's assumption that there was _anything_ going on between her and Riddle, "It's just us and an old relic, Al. Not much of date, really."

Alice looked deflated, "Oh. And here I was hoping for something juicy. Heaven knows _I_ don't have a love-life to speak of."

Padma leered, "What about that Hufflepuff first-year that's been following you around in the halls?"

Alice flushed deeply, red blossoming on her dark cheeks, "That annoying little twit! You help out a first-year one time on the Hogwarts Express and he falls in love with you." Much to Alice's chagrin, a plucky first-year by the name of Jordan Sweets had taken to her 'womanly charms' a bit too well. Mildred had found the situation rather adorable while Padma mostly laughed about it – Alice was a little too embarrassed to say much on the matter.

"So," Alice said – her tone much more serious, "Just to be clear. There's _nothing_ going on between you and Tom?"

Padma snorted, "Of course not."

"Good – then you wouldn't mind me dating him then?"

They both giggled; their warm breath intermingling with the chilling autumn air.

* * *

They had become better acquaintances – not friends, they were _not_ friends – and Padma was astonishingly delighted. There was something comforting about sitting at their little table tucked away from the rest of the library as they poured over books and occasionally helped each other on homework. Tom didn't usually need the help (and neither did she) but there was something endearing about being able to ask a question no matter how convoluted or inane but still be taken seriously. On later inspection, she suspected that it could have been the effects of the Soul bond tainting her judgment but it was hard to truly determine that it really was the cause for their sudden harmony.

Tom had a good work ethic and she admired him as a peer – he was serious about learning (a trait that was rare in _any_ House) – and it was starting to appear as though he excelled at everything. Sure, Padma knew arrogantly, he couldn't hold a candle to her in Ancient Runes but his work in Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts was something to be lauded. Things just seemed to come so naturally to Tom and it was easy to see why he was so well liked by so many girls in their year. She could only imagine how hard they would fall when he grew older and into his longer limbs. Occasionally, Padma felt as though she was the only one truly seeing Tom – being able to see both sides of his personality. He was cold, aloof and critical but he could also be bashful, hesitant and kind. If she hadn't been observing him for so long, she might have thought that he was actually two people.

The true Tom Riddle was a mystery, even to her. It seemed as though everyday she would find another clue that wouldn't fit into the puzzle.

"Tom do you hear that?" Padma frowned as she stopped mid-translation, swearing on Merlin's bloomers that she had just heard a soft hissing noise.

"No," His expression was sharp but playful, "Hearing things that others can't is a sign of a fraying mental state."

Padma set down her quill, "No. I'm not hearing things, Tom. There it is again!"

"Maybe your ears are ringing from Madam Ashworth's singing."

Padma shook her head, "I know what I heard Tom – it was almost l-like a s-snake." Her voice stumbled over the last words. Padma had always been deathly afraid of snakes ever since she was a little girl visiting relatives in India. Snake charmers were rather common in India and her father had told her it was bad luck to turn them away if they were asking for food or shelter since they could always set their snakes on a household. _Parseltongue_ was still rather rare even in India so charmers supposedly seduced their snakes using ancient blood magic. There were even some who claimed to be _Nagas_ or snakes that could take human form. She had always possessed a fear of snakes, particularly cobras – something about their beady eyes and scales deeply unsettled her.

"Are you afraid of snakes?" His eyebrows were slightly raised.

"M-maybe."

"There are hardly any poisonous snakes in Britain."

"Don't make fun of me – everyone has something that they're rather silly about."

Tom gave her a look of disbelief.

Padma's eyes narrowed, "Oh c'mon Tom. There must be something that you're afraid of – or is Mr. High-and-Mighty too posh for that?"

He refused to respond.

Padma leaned forward (the hissing forgotten), "Oh pish. There's something. There's _always_ something." She put on a false look of thoughtfulness, "Maybe you're one of those who are afraid of the dark?"

While Tom wasn't one to snort, his scoff was an awfully close match, "_Please_."

"Alright, how about spiders?"

"Really, spiders?" He smirked.

"Werewolves?"

"No."

"Heights?"

"No."

"Tom!" She stretched out his name, "Stop being such a twit and just tell me."

His expression paused as he mulled over his thoughts, "I'm not really sure."

"You don't know what you're afraid of?" Disbelief laced her voice.

He looked away from her, his voice faltering and impossibly soft, "I suppose that it would be unpleasant to die."

"Hmm," Padma nodded, "That makes sense and I guess it would be rather frightening since it's not like you have much control over it."

The faint hissing noise seemed to pick up again.

"Tom, are you _sure_ you don't hear that?"

"Positive."

* * *

**[Edit: 10/5/2013]**


	11. Cogito

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: Cogito (Plan)**

_The snake and lotus are an unlikely albeit effective pair._

_Year Three_

* * *

"So, have you thought about what you're going to do after all of this?" Padma asked during one of their homework sessions – she had finished her part of the research a while ago (it was child's play really for someone of her abilities) but she hadn't let Tom know that. The library felt cozy and Madam Ashworth's singing was temporarily muted by the chatter of whispers coming from the other tables. Thankfully, their own table was rather secluded from the others, allowing for a sense of privacy.

"How are you ever going to get anything done if you insist on chattering all of the time?" Tom scowled as he continued writing in his ever so elegant script. This was a common conversation between them – she would nudge him to converse while he would berate her for neglecting her academic duties. It was an unnecessary dance that they each performed with teasing enthusiasm.

"_Please,_ we have months until it's actually due and I'm horridly bored."

Tom smirked slightly, "If you're so bored, why don't you go to your friend's Quidditch practice."

"You must be joking – I have no intention of freezing my arse off if it's just for practice," Padma drawled as she rested her chin on her hand, "Besides, I like our study sessions together."

Though Padma didn't notice it, Tom's eyes widened a smidge before returning to their usual state. He did, however, allow a cocky grin to grace his features. "Oh?"

Padma rolled her eyes. "Don't let that get to your head, Riddle. I'm just saying that you're more tolerable than freezing my fingers off."

His grin didn't dim, however, as he replied, "How _much_ more tolerable?

Padma smiled cheekily as she leaned forward slightly, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by another voice calling, "Tom!"

Startled by the intruder, Padma flinched visibly and Tom's genuine smirk faded into an ersatz smile. She recognized that smile instantly – it was the one he always wore outside their little sessions. Compared to his real smirk, this was a cold facsimile that never quite reached his eyes.

Alphard Black had the swagger of an alley cat wandering its territory. His dark hair was not exactly unkempt but it had a certain untidiness about it that made him appear effortlessly scruffy yet still well-groomed. His green tie hung lazily around his neck. He nabbed the seat next to Padma, lounging lazily as he propped his feet up on the table. Black was handsome even at the young age of thirteen and she was sure that he would be quite the heartbreaker in his later years but currently, he merely appeared as an obnoxious brat with a bit of an attitude problem. He had a rebellious charm about him that could have been appealing if Padma hadn't loathed his type. Arrogance was one of the few things Padma couldn't stand in a person – she just had no patience for _those_ kinds of people.

While he was outwardly pleasant, Padma had the distinct feeling that Tom was as happy to see the newcomer as she was.

"So _this_ is what you've been up to." Black gifted Padma a significant look, his dark eyes raking over her meager form and Padma flushed indignantly. She didn't like his tone or the way he looked at her as though he was looking at something to buy at a shop but was wondering if it would be worth the trouble to steal it.

"I'm sorry – who are _you_, exactly?" Padma asked scathingly though she had a polite smile that resembled a sneer more than anything else. Black made Padma feel as though she was on the defensive – she had heard things about the Blacks (not necessarily good things, either) and they weren't to be trusted.

Alphard flashed a crooked smile at her as though he really believed the sincerity of her question (or perhaps he simply chose to), "Alphard Black, at your service. I don't believe we've met before, Miss."

His gaze told her that she was fully expected to supply her name though she wished she could just opt out from the conversation entirely. She reluctantly answered, "Anala Agarwal."

"Charmed, Miss Agarwal." Stealthily, he managed to grasp her hand and lightly peck her knuckles before Padma could fully react. Alphard gave her a sly smirk as Padma felt the infuriating heat of a blush creep up on her cheeks.

"Is there something you need, Black?" Tom interjected rather harshly. He glanced up from his work, fixing his stare on the boy before him.

Alphard almost immediately cooled his expression and turned his attention to Tom, making Padma frown in slight confusion. It was odd how Alphard regarded Tom, almost like a superior – like an authority figure that could punish you.

"Sluggy's moved the dinner to this Friday. Told me to tell the rest of you." Alphard didn't quite meet Tom's eyes – another thing Padma found to be strange.

Tom nodded, turning his attention back to his parchment before stating, "Very well." There was a silent dismissal evident in his tone.

Alphard's eyes turned to Padma and she met his dark blue eyes unflinchingly; she wanted him to know that she wasn't completely cowed by his routine like so many other girls their age. To her surprise, he merely smiled at her before getting up to leave the table. Padma watched his retreating back and was befuddled when he fondly called out, "See ya around, Agarwal."

She blinked a few times wondering if this was normal behavior for him. He was much more laidback than she was expecting. Most pureblood fanatics (especially the young male ones) were typically stuck-up, condescending and came with a holier-than-thou attitude – especially if you weren't a fellow Slytherin. Alphard's relatively easy-going nature and roguish charm was almost like a personality whiplash. It was refreshing to experience at the very least.

"If you're not going to do your share of the work, then I suggest you leave," Tom's tone had acquired an edge that wasn't there previously. She frowned at him, wondering about his sudden change in mood since they were just teasing each other only moments ago.

She threw a glare at him before asking, "What's gotten into you?"

He regarded her with cold eyes. "You're disturbing my work – kindly leave if you only insist on talking."

Her eyes narrowed before she relayed her biting reply, "Fine."

Padma gathered her things quickly, not bothering to look back at him. Tom was impossible to work with when he was in _that_ mood.

_Stuck up prat. Who does he think he is telling me to leave like that?_

* * *

_You have progressed well, Mistress. _Orange eyes seemed to praise her though Padma shivered from the slight chill that seemed to eternally dwell in the school's Owlery. She was visiting Garuda after classes, needing some long-overdue conversation with her new favorite companion.

_**I had a great teacher, **_she smiled. _**Are the others treating you well?**_

_They are mere babes, _he huffed indignantly, _runts if anything else._

_**Be nice, Garuda.**_

_I am nothing but tactful, I assure you._

Padma rolled her eyes at his tone.

_Have the headaches lessened?_

Padma nodded, momentarily forgetting that they were supposed to be practicing Occlumency by having a totally nonverbal conversation via a mental link.

_**I haven't had any as of late but I don't know if this arrangement is such a great solution. I can't access any of my earlier memories without causing myself physical pain but I can't risk anything by writing any of my memories down for future reference.**_

_That is quite the dilemma, but I have the utmost confidence that you will succeed in finding a suitable answer to your dilemma. You are _my_ Mistress, after all. _Garuda flew to her shoulder, affectionately nipping at her long hair.

His talons momentarily clenched her shoulder, causing Padma to yelp.

_**What was that for?!**_

_My apologies, _Garuda's voice wasn't very apologetic and he quickly flew to a different perch, _but_ _you smell vile Mistress._

_**I assure you that I bathe regularly.**_

_You smell like _Them_._

_**Them? What are you talking about? **_Padma outwardly frowned, not liking his tone.

_Them. I believe that you humans call them Nagas._

_**Nagas? You mean like snakes? But that's preposterous! I haven't seen one let alone touched one.**_

Garuda cocked his head. _My sense of smell is impeccable, I assure you. You would not need to have touched one for the scent to cling to you – perhaps someone in your company is hoarding one of those wretched creatures for a tasty snack._

_**We don't eat snakes, Garuda.**_

_Shame. Then again, I've always known humans were rather foolish – ever since I was hatchling._

_**Right, **_Padma replied exasperatedly. _**I'll have to order more of your treats – they're disappearing at an alarming rate. Any idea why?**_

I'm _not stealing them, if that's what you're implying Mistress._

Padma, however, didn't quite believe him. _**Of course not. I was merely wondering aloud.**_

_Farewell Mistress. Perhaps next time you can bring Ribbons with you?_

_**I don't think Milly took you stealing her ribbons very well. She was giving me withering looks over supper.**_

Garuda scoffed. _I find it extremely odd that you would put such finery in your hair; it deserves to be adorning something far greater like a nest._

_**I'll be sure to pass on that wisdom to Milly.**_

_Make sure you do. _

Padma made her way back to the Ravenclaw tower with a slight grin on her lips. Despite Garuda's attitude, she found him to be hilarious even though he could be rather exhausting at times. Her mood had lightened but that wasn't mean to last unfortunately. The moment she turned the corner, she collided with another person – and who else would it be besides Alphard Black?

Padma scowled and but didn't refuse his helping hand as he brought her back up to her feet.

"Do you do this with all the girls?" Padma asked drily as she dusted her robes off.

"What can I say? I enjoy sweeping girls off their feet," Alphard smiled as he gave her a saucy wink.

Padma rolled her eyes at his cheesy attempt at flirting and started to make her way towards the dorms.

"Wait!" She turned partially curious as to why he had stopped her. His eyes raked over her again and Padma had trouble suppressing the shiver that overcame her body.

"What is it?" She asked, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear – her fingers still grasping her wand (just in case) because Padma was never the most trusting of people. Something about Alphard Black made her uneasy – his existence seemed to nudge something in the back of her mind, threatening to remind her of something she had thought she had forgotten.

"Ah, nothing," He replied rather sheepishly, his fingers running through his shaggy hair with slight embarrassment.

Padma quirked an eyebrow but said nothing as she turned on her heel, leaving Alphard Black alone in the empty hallway.

* * *

"I don't know about this . . ."

"Oh bugger Milly. Your worries are rubbish – you're one of the best Quidditch players I've ever seen."

"But you only learned what Quidditch was three years ago!" Milly scowled.

"So! Stop worrying, you'll do fine," Alice grumbled.

"You'll do great, Milly," Padma smiled. It was the day of the Ravenclaw and Slytherin game – Slytherin was the favorite to win, unfortunately. The unfavorable odds, however, didn't stop the rest of the house from encouraging the team to do their best. It was Milly's first game and she was understandably nervous. They were seated for breakfast trying to raise Milly's spirits but Padma found herself to be distracted. Tom had been acting rather strange since their last study session and she found herself much more bothered by it than she had expected. She felt anxious for some reason – and it was extremely unpleasant.

Her relationship with Tom seemed volatile – some days they would get along great and Padma would leave his company with a smile while on others she was glad to leave, not wanting to stay in his presence for another second. It was exhausting trying to figure out whether they would have a pleasant time or just end up making each other mad again.

She just wished that they would reach some kind of understanding or that Tom would stop being so moody all the time – were all teenaged boys like this? She couldn't really remember from her experiences since she had been too busy to worry about herself to notice the behaviors of the males around her. And Tom was different from anyone she had ever met – half the time it seemed as though he was acting but it was hard to discern what he was really like and what he wasn't.

Mildred left with the other team members to get in a small pep talk before the game while Alice went to chat with a few of her friends from Divinations. Padma sighed loudly, and checked the time. She still had enough to stop by the Owlery before the game.

"Fancy meeting you here, Agarwal." Padma looked up to see familiar dark blue eyes and ever so shaggy hair. She was starting to suspect that Alphard Black was keeping tabs on her because he always seemed to be able to find her whenever she was alone. Her relationship with Black was much less complex – he would flirt at her and she would brush him off. He was good company since he never failed to make her laugh in his attempts and she did find his smile to be rather dashing. He was a welcome reprieve after trying to solve the puzzle that was Tom Riddle. Unlike Tom, Alphard was rather straightforward about his character and intentions. The fact that he probably wanted nothing more than to get in her pants made things much easier than she had anticipated. There was no second-guessing his motivations or his desires – he was uncouth, uncivilized and his behavior screamed adolescent boy.

"Well, I do live here, Black. And so do you, if you need the reminder."

"Aren't you going to the Slytherin and Ravenclaw game?" He asked as they walked side by side to the Owlery.

"I just want to check in with Garuda first before heading off. Wait, aren't _you_ on the Quidditch team? Shouldn't you be in uniform?" Padma questioned him, bewildered by his nonchalant behavior after witnessing Milly's near meltdown during breakfast.

"Garuda?" He asked.

"My Eagle-owl. He gets rather annoying when I don't visit him regularly. Are you sure you have time to chat with me like this?" She frowned.

"I have plenty of time, I assure you."

Padma snorted, "Well alright then but if your Quidditch captain chooses to chew you out – that's your business."

"Parkinson's got it bad for my sister – he wouldn't dare upset me. I am a Black, after all."

"Arrogance doesn't suit you," Padma scowled.

Alphard turned to her, his eyes flickering in the low-light of the torches. "And just what does suit me, Agarwal?" There was something heavy in his gaze as though he was trying to look through her.

"I don't know, why don't you ask Greengrass?" Linda Greengrass was the princess of the Slytherins and undoubtedly the prettiest girl in their year. Her baby-blue eyes and soft features gave her certain doe-like qualities that most didn't associate with the cunning House. She was always pleasantly polite but she seemed rather dull over all since she always tried to please everyone.

"Perhaps," Alphard replied as he glanced at her, "But I'd rather have your opinion."

"My opinion?" Padma echoed, "And what makes my opinion so valuable?"

"You have," Alphard paused, "certain interested parties questioning about you. I'm surprised that you haven't noticed them."

"I hope that's not your way of telling me that you like me."

"Oh heaven's no!" Alphard proclaimed, "Pardon my coarse language but I'm only interested in a snog, darling, nothing more."

Padma smacked him lightly on the shoulder, "And I assure you, Black. That's never going to happen."

His eyes sparkled in the low light, "And I respect you for it."

"Do you have any intention on telling me who these so-called interested parties are?" Padma asked as they arrived to their destination.

"Maybe in exchange for a good snogging," Alphard offered to which Padma rolled her eyes, "but I'm afraid that I'm sworn to secrecy."

"Shame," Padma murmured as she began to rummage through her bag for Owl Treats.

"Well," Alphard turned to leave, "I'll see you out in the pitch then."

Padma's expression turned thoughtful as she wondered who on Earth would be interested in her.

* * *

The Quidditch game was average as far as Padma was concerned. Ravenclaw had lost but not as terribly as everyone had expected – there was still a chance of them making second place if they manage to beat both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Milly had played splendidly and Padma was quick to reassure her that the loss wasn't their fault. If only the seeker for the Ravenclaw team hadn't so distracted by the task of waving to his girlfriend, they may have actually won the game. Nonetheless, it was with heavy hearts that everyone returned to the common room. It was rather lucky that most of the House couldn't care less about the game – they were known mostly for their academics and playing Quidditch seemed so irrelevant when there could be learning being done.

Nothing really remarkable had happened except for the fact that one of the beaters (not Iggy) had been knocked off his broom and took a rather nasty tumble. He was currently in the Hospital Wing where the rest of the team were wishing him well and Madam Milligan expected him to make a full recovery. His accident, however, was enough for Alice to swear flying off altogether.

Currently, Padma was waiting in the library for Tom to arrive. It was Wednesday and she found it rather odd that he hadn't arrived yet. Then again, she was a bit early. She was skimming through a dated biography one of the previous Headmasters and was jolted from her reading by someone dropping their books on the table. She looked up to see a rather disgruntled Tom which was odd because she had never seen him so _frustrated _before. His hair was disheveled and he looked as though he just spent the last forty minutes working himself into a fit. It was a bit disconcerting to say the least.

"Is something wrong?" She asked quietly, making her voice rather low so they wouldn't be overheard by the other tables – which was silly because she could hear Madam Ashworth singing loudly just a few shelves away.

He glared at her but Padma wouldn't be deterred as she patiently waited for him to reply.

"Simply a miscalculation," he muttered.

"Must be some miscalculation if you're going around slamming books on the table." She was trying to be funny and wipe that scowl off his face but no luck.

He looked at her, his expression free of any humor and Padma's smile quickly faded. He clearly wasn't in a joking mood.

"Maybe talking about it will make you feel better?" She scowled when he made it obvious that her attempts were both unwanted and unnecessary. She started again, "Seriously, Tom. I've never seen something bother you like this – what's wrong?"

"What does it matter to you?"

"Well," Padma tapped her chin, "I _do_ consider us friends even if you don't. And friends help each other even when a certain _friend_ is being a git and doesn't want to admit that he needs it."

He swallowed and seemed to mull over the consequences in his head before revealing, "I need to get into the Restricted Section."

Padma nodded, causing him to furrow his brow in confusion. "I can distract Madam Milligan if you want."

"Really?" He murmured, there was a slight inflection of disbelief in his voice.

"You are my friend, Riddle. That being said, I only hope that whatever you want from the Restricted Section is worth it."

"You're not going to ask me what it is." Though it should have been a question, he made it sound like a statement as he continued to stare at her.

Padma shook her head, "Knowing you it must be a good reason but I have no intention of prying into your affairs."

He blinked slowly, still trying to process what she was saying.

"Well?" Padma asked, "Are you going to take my help or not?"

He nodded, still staring at her with a foreign expression on his face.

* * *

To say the operation went swimmingly was an understatement. Padma had always known how to butter up her professors and Madam Ashworth was no exception. She was able to rope her in by asking her about her opera days and soon the elder woman was recounting fond memories, allowing Tom enough time to sneak in the Restricted Section without so much as a hitch. To be honest, however, the security to the Restricted Section was a bit of a joke. It relied heavily on the supervision of the librarian since there were no detectors to indicate whether someone was sneaking into the section.

Tom was able to gather his needed information in under five minutes which was impressive since Padma felt as though she could keep Madam Ashworth talking for at least twenty minutes longer. In fact, it was Tom that interrupted their conversation when he asked Madam Ashworth an inane question about the older editions of the Charms textbooks kept in the corner of the library.

Both Tom and Padma returned to their table to pick up their things, quietly packing pieces of parchment back into their bags.

Padma had been so absorbed in her task that she flinched when she felt a foreign weight on her shoulders. It took a little longer for her to realize that it was Tom's hand on her shoulder and that he was looking straight into her eyes. He wasn't too far away and he seemed a bit too close for comfort since they always kept a conscious distance between each other.

"Thank you," His voice was inconceivably soft and Padma couldn't muster the guts to do anything but nod since he was close enough for her to count the blue specks in his grey eyes.

Just when he pulled his hand away, however, Padma had gathered her wits, "Don't mention it Riddle. Just next time – ask, okay? That _is_ what friends are for, you know."

"Of course." He nodded.

And Padma returned to the Ravenclaw tower feeling a little lighter.

* * *

_November XX, 1940_

_My venture into the Restricted Section has succeeded. I have discovered that I indeed of royal blood – I am a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, as I have suspected. My mother was Merope Gaunt though there is nothing written of my father. Nonetheless, I am the true Heir of Slytherin and I should continue searching for the so-called Chamber of Secrets._

_I have scheduled a Knights of Walpurgis meeting for next week and have found most of the recruits to be rather receptive especially because of the accident we planned for the Ravenclaw half-blood during the Quidditch game. The Vertigo Jinx that I invented worked exceptionally – though I need to test it on a few more participants before fully declaring it a success. I will also need to work on gaining the trust and admiration of the other Houses since I have already won the trust of the Slytherins. I have found that appearing to be humble will appeal to the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw house though the Gryffindors are still wary of me because the preposterous House stigma._

_She has been surprising accommodating and I find our sessions to be rather – informative. She is not be to be trusted, of course. She is still a volatile unknown variable in my plans, though with research perhaps this Soul bond will bear fruit as well. She is a useful resource though her interactions with Black are concerning – this cannot be allowed to continue at any rate._

* * *

**I will have to mention that it will be highly unlikely for me to update before Christmas due to unforeseen circumstances. I will be updating this story, just at a slower pace.**

**Please review.**


	12. Extraneus

**CHAPTER TWELVE: EXTRANEUS (Stranger)**

_There are intruders in the garden._

_Year Three_

* * *

Tom Riddle's popularity was growing – this he knew to be a fact. Where before others wouldn't give him a second glance, now even the Gryffindors were looking to him for answers (even if it was just for classwork). He had made a name for himself; intelligence was a tool but it was his charm – his ability to change emotions much like one can turn a switch on and off – that was drawing people to him. It was still far too early, but Tom knew patience would reward him soon enough.

"Tom? Could you help me on my homework? There's just this question that I can't seem to understand." Linda Greengrass batted her eyes as she bit the bottom of her lip playfully. Tom smiled but she never noticed that the expression never reached his cold eyes – she was blissfully ignorant of how tense his body grew when she daintily grasped his shoulder. Linda Greengrass was conventionally attractive, Tom knew this fact very since he was considered to be attractive as well. They both possessed the same pale, aristocratic features that supposedly all purebloods were blessed with (this was a lie, of course, one only need to look at Ernest Crabbe to know the truth).

Tom could not appreciate fragile beauty – it seemed too fleeting when he was looking for more permanent and relevant things. While beauty could aid one on the path to knowledge and power – it gave little else. Without a brain working like the one behind his handsome mask, he doubted that anyone similar to the likes of Linda Greengrass would ever achieve any true accomplishment.

Girls were starting to take notice of him especially those of his year. It was becoming quite irritating but he never once deterred their advances, knowing that exploiting their feelings would give him quite the advantage. He found lovesick girls to be good agents – any fool blinded by love would go to drastic measures.

He never cared for any of them, finding them to be boring and dull. They rarely bothered to speak of anything of interest to him even though he knew that they weren't nearly as stupid as they were pretending to be. On some level, it repulsed him since he knew that they were deliberately making themselves appear slower as a means to "attract" him.

_She_ never did that.

(Not to say that he meant to think of her.)

He found himself to be the slightest bit glad that at least she wasn't falling for this disease.

At least, not yet.

* * *

"_Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma! Tu pure, o, Principessa, nella tua fredda stanza, guardi le stele che tremano d'amore e di speranza. Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me, il nome mio nessun saprà!_" Madam Ashworth bellowed, her voice clear but undeniably shrill as the lyrics to an Italian opera could be heard through every corner of the library. Tom resisted the urge to roll his eyes when he passed the aging librarian, choosing to give her his most charming smile instead. His ruse was successful since the wizened old hag gave him a brief wink before bustling over to a pile of books. His table was empty, waiting for him to neatly stack his books and place his bookbag carefully on the chair beside him. He had made it quite clear that no one was supposed to touch his things – even if he had to teach a few of his fellow classmates – and now the table was always blissfully empty just for him. He quickly got to work, opening the large tomes and pouring over the words. He always found the sensation to be _filling_ whenever he was studying, though he knew he never had to look at things more than once to remember them – he enjoyed the process of gathering information and slowly but steadily learning everything there ever was to know about magic. It filled him with a sense of satisfaction and pride. Knowledge was power, after all, and Tom could appreciate power in all its forms.

He found himself glancing up at the empty chair across from him, silently wondering the time. It was Wednesday, after all. Not to say that he was excited. Not to say that he favored this day over all the others (he didn't, of course, because that would just be ridiculous). He just found Wednesday to be slightly more agreeable than all the other days.

That was all.

He forced himself to look back at the textbook, writing notes in his spidery handwriting. His quill movements gentle and perfect as though he wrote as easily as breathing. The library was relatively undisturbed (Madam Ashworth was in the far corner) and the only sound he could hear was his own breathing. His fingers twitched with slight anxiety – while Tom enjoyed the quiet and peace, he did not enjoy complete silence. Complete silence reminded him all too well of his ever so diminishing life – his dimming, slowing, deteriorating life. It reminded him that his breaths were numbered – soon there would be a day where he wouldn't breathe at all.

The quill snapped under his hand. Tom cursed quietly as he used his wand to clean up the spilled ink and took out a fresh quill.

_Those_ thoughts were growing ever so frequent. Every year – every dreadful year on the worst day of the year – his feeling of mortality would be evoked. His was still young – still alive – but for how long? How long would he enjoy his health until he too pitifully expired like the rest of the rubbish in this dustbin?

He wanted – no, _needed_ – a better option for himself. He would not, under any circumstances, allow himself to end up like the rest of them.

He was going to become immortal – he swore it.

"Hi Tom!" A cheery voice broke him out of his reverie, slightly startling him. His eyes looked up at the smiling intruder, her cheeks were slightly flushed but _life_ was rolling off of her in waves.

"Agarwal." His throat felt impossibly dry, forcing him to clear his throat.

She set her bag down on the table, careful not to disturb any of the books already placed on it. "Sorry I'm late. It's just that Alphard stopped me in the halls and –"

"What?" If his voice was a knife, the rows of bookshelves behind her would have adorned deep gashes.

"Alphard. Alphard Black. You know, the delinquent Slytherin? Anyways, I forgot to check in with –"

"What were you doing?"

Her brow furrowed when he interrupted, a scowl tracing her lips. "Why does that matter?"

"You shouldn't associate with him."

She aimed a glare at him which he easily brushed aside – it was funny really. As if he was really concerned about _her_ anger in this matter. "And why," she slowly said, "should I listen to you?"

"Black isn't worth your time. He's slower than Goyle."

"You _know_ that isn't true, Riddle. He might be a ne'er-do-well but that doesn't mean he's absolutely hopeless," she paused, "Actually he can be quite witty if –"

His fury seemed to reach new heights as he snapped another quill in his fist.

She stopped, taking note of his livid mood. "What's gotten into you? Don't tell me that you have some absurd rivalry with him or something."

She wouldn't listen to blunt words, he was starting to realize. He would need to change tactics for this to actually work. He forced himself to soften his eyes, "May I confide something in you? As a friend, of course."

"Of course," she repeated, slightly confused by the change in his demeanor.

"Black doesn't have the cleanest record – even in Slytherin. And," he stared into her eyes to get his message fully across, "and I worry about his intentions, Ana."

Her name felt unfamiliar on his tongue – as though it was full of meaning and significance. He paused, waiting for her response. To his surprise, he was given a smile.

"You're worried about me?" She asked softly.

He looked away, not wanting to look her in the eyes. Her smiles always made him feel uncomfortable.

"Tom," her voice said his name rather lowly, causing the skin at the back of his neck to prickle, "that's really – that's really sweet, actually." She swallowed before continuing, "But it's not necessary. I'm not some naïve little girl – I know exactly what he wants but I assure you, I know how to take care of myself."

Tom raised an eyebrow, physically expressing his doubt.

She chuckled lightly, "I'm serious. You know what they say – girls do mature faster than boys, you know."

He leaned across the table, using his elbows to prop himself up. "I trust you, of course, to take care of yourself. But I'm not sure if I can trust him."

She nodded. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't really like him. He's a real tosser, actually."

Tom remained silent, turning his attention back to his work.

"But Tom," he raised his gaze to meet hers, "thanks for the concern."

"Anytime." His voice still felt dry – perhaps he was in need of some pumpkin juice?

* * *

"Isn't he just so heartbreakingly handsome?" Alice cooed.

"Well, there's definitely something breaking – though I don't think it's my heart, Alice," Padma replied wryly.

"Oh hush. Let me have my fun. There's a shortage on fine male specimens, if you know what I mean."

"Alice, Leo Boyle is a sixth-year. He's graduating next year. He probably doesn't even think of us in that way."

Alice scowled. "A girl can dream, can't she? Besides, I heard that him and Reedham are history now," Alice flounced her curls, "And he's definitely ripe for the pickings."

"Don't you have something better to do than ogle older boys?" Padma muttered as she opened _Guide to Advanced Occlumency_. She had cast a small Glamour on the book, knowing that people would ask questions if they learned that she wanted to master Occlumency. While Occlumency wasn't outlawed like Legilimency, it still had a certain stigma about it.

"So how are you and Tom?" Alice tried to ask casually but failed miserably.

"What _about_ me and Tom? You already know that there's nothing going on," Padma muttered, peeved that Alice was still asking her about this.

"I know that. But there's been some . . . talk." Alice's voice drifted away at the end of the sentence.

"What _sort_ of talk?" Alice sighed, avoiding Padma's eyes. "Alice," Padma grabbed her friend's arm, attempting to retrieve her full attention, "what sort of talk have you heard?"

Alice looked into her friend's eyes. "It's nothing really just some petty rumors."

Padma quirked an eyebrow. "Alice, I'm a big girl. I'm pretty sure that I can take it. So, please for the love of Merlin, just tell me what's going on."

"Well you know how I have Divinations and there's loads of girls in there from all the houses. Well, some of them – I'm not sure who, mind! – have been jealous that you're spending so much time with Tom. I know he's only a third year and all but he's getting the attention of a few of the fifth-years!"

"Alice, it's for a project," Padma enunciated every word.

"I know, Ana! I know! It's just really silly, alright. Don't let it get to you." Alice's brown eyes were pleading with her to drop the subject which Padma obliged.

Padma was stunned – she had never really received the ire of her classmates (especially the female ones) like this. There had been a few rumors circulating about her since she never had many female friends but perhaps Parvati had been the one to put an end to that. Regardless, Padma found herself in an uncomfortable situation. Was she supposed to confront these mudslingers? Or she just let things be and wait for the next piece of juicy gossip to crop up. She sighed irritably. Petty girls and their even pettier hearts.

Her fists clenched at her sides. What was her plan again? To lie low and quietly graduate? Why was that becoming harder and harder to accomplish? Such an easy thing to do, really, so why was she having so much trouble?

Her nails pricked into her palm, harshly reminding her that now was not the time nor place to wallow in her own pity.

* * *

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!" She shouted, her hands making fists at her sides as she focused her full attention on the quill before her. She was practicing her wandless magic in an abandoned classroom located on the seventh floor – no one ever came up here, not unless they were looking for something specific. She had put simple Imperturbable Charm followed by a few layers of Notice-Me-Nots and a few extra Memory Charms – you could never be too careful.

So far, her efforts in wandless magic were rather fruitless but she kept at it nonetheless. The practice gave her a tangible problem that she would actually solve eventually. It was a great tool to vent out frustration even when she ended up screaming herself hoarse. She had noticed that her magic was more potent when she worked herself into a right fit but she was still trying to unlock the key so it wouldn't be so volatile.

She had learned that the primary reason why wizards bothered with a medium was become magic was inherently unstable. It needed something to straighten it out before it entered existence – otherwise it would dissipate without a moment's notice. Accidental magic was likely an overly concentrated dose of magic strong enough to accomplish a task without dissipating too quickly. It was an anomaly that didn't really make sense to her – if young children could do such magic (albeit accidentally) why was it so uncommon for grown wizards to do so?

Padma let out a loud sigh. She began rubbing her necklace between her fingers, looping the silvery chain around her fingers and enjoying the feeling of cool metal against her hot skin. Playing with her necklace had become some sort of safety net for her – it gave her something to focus on since it was one of the few relics she had of her home (her overgrown clothes were the other).

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," she muttered half-heartedly.

The quill lay undisturbed on the table.

Padma sat down, propping her chin on her palm as she stared at the insufferable object.

_Wingardium Leviosa, _she said sarcastically in her head waving her left arm around.

To her great surprise, however, the feathered quill wavered before jumping into the air a few centimeters off the table before slowly drifting down. Padma's jaw dropped as a rush of ecstatic glee filled her veins. Her smile was so wide she was afraid it would split her face in two.

"That's it?" She asked herself in disbelief.

Who knew that the secret to wandless magic was that it was wordless as well? Wandless magic apparently originated in the mind and thus a higher level of focus was needed to execute it in addition to an assigned body movement.

It seemed as though physical movement was still necessary to execute the spell but the only question was how much – what motion was the most efficient and the most effective? Her mind spun with hypotheses and proposed theories – finally the breakthrough she had been waiting for!

Though it didn't really explain the accidental bursts of magic – how were small infants able to perform magic if they didn't already know the name of spell? Was magic just intent-based? Were the words involved in spellcasting just mere tools to focus the intent?

Her concentration was shattered when she heard the door rattle – a sign that someone was coming this way down the hall. While Padma was rather confident about the charms on the door, she knew it could draw suspicion especially to more powerful wizards. Students were unlikely to notice anything off about the door but an experienced professor could end up being her undoing. Her fears were realized when the footsteps grew closer and closer until they almost approached the door. Hurriedly, she gathered her things and cast the Disillusionment spell in the nick of time as the door creaked opened, revealing Professor Selwyn who had a glazed look in his eyes.

Padma didn't dare breathe as she willed for the professor to leave since there was clearly nothing out of the ordinary (except for the invisible girl that was crouched behind a desk). After a few tense moments, the professor closed the door with small _click_ and Padma was finally allowed to breathe again.

She let out a sigh of relief as she gazed at the feathered quill in her hand. Perhaps next time she would try warding the door – much less obvious.

Regardless, Padma smiled wide, she had succeeded and victory was awfully sweet.

* * *

"It's fine. Honestly, Alice, it's fine. I like spending Christmas at the castle – it's so peaceful."

Alice frowned, pushing her food around her plate. She was clearly not pleased with Padma's nonchalance.

"But Ana! My parents are insisting!" Alice nearly shouted, "It's not any trouble at all. And you're loads better than the rest of my cousins – they're all terribly jealous of my private school friends. Imagine how we could rub the truth into their faces!"

"While I do not agree with the idea of boasting – I must agree with Alice. You've turned down our offers every summer, at least entertain us for Christmas?" Mildred asked as she daintily cut a piece of chicken.

"Besides," Alice added, "Who'd want to stay in some dreary castle all winter? It's awfully drafty."

Padma's smile became strained. Her friends were getting increasingly pushy about her spending the holidays with them. While she found the gesture rather heartwarming, it was starting to get irritating when they wouldn't take no for an answer.

"I really appreciate it – truly I do, but I just wouldn't feel comfortable."

"Don't worry about it Ana! It'll be perfect. You can spend Christmas at Milly's and New Years at mine – it'll work out, you'll see."

"I can't."

Mildred frowned, the expression souring her pointy features. "Can't or won't, Ana?"

"Can't," Padma emphasized, "My parents wouldn't allow it."

"They don't seem to allow _much_," Alice grumbled even though Mildred angrily shushed her.

"My parents are just a bit strict about things, I suppose. Maybe some other time?"

"Fine," Alice scowled, "But you're coming over during the summer holidays even if I have to drag you away from the train."

Padma smiled a small smile but was thankful that her friends had dropped the subject.

"Milly?" A deep voice called, drawing the trio's attention. Alice gasped excitedly while Mildred smiled – Padma kept her gaze to her food, the intruder wasn't all that important.

"Hello Leo. Are you going home for the holidays?" Mildred replied smoothly, addressing her Quidditch captain. Padma was certain that Mildred never thought of Leo as anything more than a captain – maybe as an older brother perhaps but her intentions were achingly innocent. Alice, on the other hand, was batting her eyelashes a meter a second.

"Hi Leo," Alice said.

Leo nodded in acknowledgement before answering, "Sure am. Though I came to tell you to keep up the exercises – practice will be far more brutal after the break especially since we actually have a shot at second."

"We do?" Alice asked.

Leo smiled. "I know it's not much but it's far better than coming in last. We might've won it if Laz didn't get injured."

"How is Laz?" Padma asked. She hadn't seen the other beater since the game against Slytherin and though he recovered, he was still wary about mounting a broom.

"He's doing alright but he won't touch a broom. We're scrambling for a replacement – any of you gals know a good beater?"

The girls shook their heads in unison and Leo sighed. "Well, have a good holiday. I've got rounds to make. The work of a Quidditch captain is never done!" He smiled in goodbye as he moved down the table to talk to a few of the other players.

"Poor Laz," Mildred said, "he was a great beater too."

"Did they ever find out what happened?" Alice asked, "I mean it makes no sense for someone that good to suddenly fall off like that."

Mildred shook her head. "I have no idea. They checked his broom and everything – nothing was wrong. Maybe it was just bad luck?"

Alice scoffed. "A Ravenclaw that actually believes in bad luck? Come off it, Milly. You know there's no such thing."

"That's not exactly true, Alice. There's a potion that gives you luck," Milly huffed.

Alice rolled her eyes but Padma agreed. "She's right you know – it's called _Felix Felicis_. And if there's one for good – there's probably one for bad as well."

"You're not having me on?" Alice asked. "Well that's a laugh. What's it made of?"

"We'll find out in our sixth year. It's awfully difficult to brew and it's extremely dangerous if you don't know what you're doing."

Alice sighed. "What I wouldn't give for a little luck."

* * *

A few days before Christmas, the castle seemed practically deserted. Its large halls were rather eerie when silent but Padma found herself appreciating the fragile beauty – it was rare to see the castle this quiet since there had never been a dull moment within its walls.

Her footfalls echoed through the hallway as she made her way to the library. Knowing Tom, he wouldn't let some holiday in get in the way when there could be work done. Sure enough he sat at the corner table. Thankfully Madam Ashworth wasn't singing though she was listening opera on the Wizarding Wireless Network. Despite the mournful singing, Padma could swear that she was hearing a hissing noise. Her approach towards the table was silent – in fact, she was sure that Tom hadn't noticed her presence (either that or he was doing an awfully great job at ignoring her).

It happened oftentimes whenever she was in the library which she found awfully suspicious since Madam Ashworth didn't seem the type to be fond of anything that slithered. She had attempted to confront Tom about it but he always brushed her off. Perhaps she would need proof?

She was just a few meters away when she saw something slither out of Tom's sleeve, with a very narrow black tongue darting out just beyond his cuff. Padma froze in two parts fear and one part fascination. Tom had been harboring a snake this entire time? Snakes weren't allowed – they were against school rules (something they both knew – and while she didn't doubt that Tom could bend the rules, she never thought he would ever outright break one. Especially so defiantly since he was hiding the snake just under his robes! She was about to take another step when another hissing noise stopped her. But there was something different about this noise – it sounded more . . . human than snake. Even though it was all hissing to her, there was a faint accent about this that reminded her of –

Padma let out a shriek as pain slammed into her skull, stumbling into a stack of books and losing her footing. Her misstep immediately drew the attention of the other two occupants of the library though Madam Ashworth merely hushed her after confirming she was fine. Tom, on the other hand, looked far more bemused.

"What's the matter, Agarwal? Can't walk on a flat surface?"

"Ha ha. You're so funny," Padma rolled her eyes before adding, "I was just making sure the library didn't have any . . . illegal inhabitants."

"Oh?" An eyebrow was raised coyly.

Padma narrowed her eyes. "Don't play dumb with me, Riddle. I know that you have a snake up your sleeve."

Tom smirked. "Prove it."

Padma scowled when she felt her hands tremble, the thought of her actually touching his sleeve and revealing the snake was enough to make her quake in fear. She clenched her fists when she saw Tom's look of amusement. She wouldn't be outwitted however. "And I may or may not have seen something curious about this . . . snake."

"Like the fact that it doesn't exist?"

"Like the fact that I saw you talking to it. And I don't mean that stupid cooing nonsense Ariella does to her cat. You were conversing with this snake," Padma whispered into his ear. She was leaning across the table, dropping her voice to ensure that Madam Ashworth couldn't hear (she couldn't, of course, she was playing her opera at a deafening noise level). "And I think we _both_ know what that means."

Tom's eyes narrowed, his eyes dangerously clear.

"You will not tell _anyone_."

"Maybe," Padma said cheekily, "but I want a favor first."

"A favor?" His words coated with disbelief.

"Teach me how to get over my fear of snakes."

"You're actually serious?" Tom's brow furrowed.

"It's silly when I think about it. Why am I so scared of snakes when there are other things that could be far worse? It's ridiculous."

"And how do you propose we go about this?"

"Maybe if I warm up to one snake, it won't be that big of a leap to another one."

Tom let out a long sigh. "Fine. Meet me in Greenhouse Two before dinner. We'll start your training then."

Padma smiled as she nodded her head enthusiastically.

* * *

"So what's its name?" Padma asked, she sat a ways away from Tom and snake but close enough so she could see both clearly. The snake was a different color than from the grass – a different shade of green, camouflaging it in the elements.

"She," Tom corrected, "And she doesn't have one."

"She doesn't have one?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

Padma scowled. "_Why_ doesn't she have a name?"

"It's just not part of their culture. They refer to themselves according to origin or birthplace rather than actual names."

"Hmm," Padma muttered, "You should call her Nagini."

"Nagini?"

"It's Hindi for female snake. It's a practical name if anything."

"How are you supposed to get over your fear if you're all the way over there?"

"I'm just fine, thank you very much," Padma replied sharply even though Tom chuckled lightly.

"Don't be such a Hufflepuff – it's quite unbecoming of you."

"And what? A Gryffindor's not much better. I'm fine with preserving my life through fear if that's what it takes."

"Come here," he beckoned and for some strange reason Padma actually felt compelled to obey. Maybe it was the playful tone hidden under his words or maybe it was the amusement she saw flickering in his grey eyes. Whatever the case may be, Padma soon found herself sitting next to Tom, their knees almost touching with a brilliantly green snake less than a meter away from her.

"She's . . . beautiful," Padma murmured – that much she could admit. The snake's scales gleamed brilliantly like emeralds while its coal-black eyes glimmered in the sunlight. The snake was not terribly long but Padma had the horrid feeling that it would soon grow to be much, much larger.

Tom nodded wordlessly before relaying some hisses to the snake.

"What are you saying?" Padma asked.

"Just some precautions. Don't make any sudden movements, she's wary of strangers."

Padma immediately stilled, her pulse quickening.

"And try not to look so scared, she can sense your fear."

"Shut up," Padma grumbled. "You're making me nervous."

Padma gazed into the snake's eyes, unblinkingly as she swallowed her fear. The snake gazed back, and Padma could see an abyss buried deep in its eyes. There was something unsettling about the darkness in its eyes, almost as though it meant to swallow her whole.

"Do you want to touch her?" Tom's voice startled her and Padma suppressed a gasp.

"You mean as in actually touch her?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "She won't hurt you. She's smarter than that."

Padma stared at the snake hesitantly, pondering whether it was really worth it. She already felt like she was pushing fate by being this close to the reptile – maybe it was just better to quit while she was ahead?

"I don't know . . ."

Tom surprised her by nudging her with his knee. "Don't lose heart now Agarwal."

"Fine," Padma grumbled; she wasn't pleased with the fact that she had relented to him. "But you swear she won't do anything?"

"I swear." Padma searched into Tom's grey eyes for anything – anything that may look like he would betray her trust. What she found was awfully unclear to her, though grudgingly she would admit that she couldn't see any signs that he was blatantly lying to her.

Her hand trembled slightly as she reached out tentatively towards the emerald scales, ignoring Tom's soft snickering. Her fingers drifted over the creature only slightly – her body was rigid in tension, as though she might need to withdraw in less than a moment's notice.

Nagini's scales felt as smooth as they looked, Padma concluded. Her hand was still trembling slightly but her body was now much looser and didn't feel as though her spine was about to snap at any moment. She slowly released the breath that she had been hoarding within her lungs and her hands finally stilled.

Nagini, for the most, part did nothing except flick her tongue and slither closer to Tom after the entire ordeal was over. The snake let out a few soft hisses to which Tom immediately replied.

"What's she saying?"

"Nothing of importance," Tom casually brushed her off.

* * *

"_So that is your mate?" _There was an ironic tone in the snake's voice (if snakes were able to understand the concept of irony), "_How fragile."_

"_She is not my mate. She is not my anything."_

The snake sputtered as though it was chuckling. _"There is old magic binding you, master. She is your mate."_

"_This bind is not permanent. We will soon get rid of it."_

Nagini's black eyes glimmered in the torch light. _"A snake always needs a mate, master. It is simply the ways things are done. To do otherwise is foolish folly."_

"_I make my own decisions," _Tom answered darkly.

"_Of course, master," _Nagini replied as she continued to slither down the halls (she rather enjoyed it when she didn't have to hide – it was easier to hunt prey, supposedly), _"but you are still but a hatchling master, soon you will understand."_

"_I understand perfectly well. That girl is not my mate."_

If it was possible, Nagini might have rolled her eyes.

"_Perhapsss. But she is knowledgeable – perhaps she knows of the old ways."_

Tom scowled at her as she disappeared into the shadows of the castle, knowing that his pet could take quite good care of herself. Nagini was an intelligent creature – usually. There were some ingrained parts of her that were inherently snake and not human which made convincing her of certain human constructs rather tedious. She was an agreeable companion, however, and he genuinely enjoyed her company.

It was a mistake to commit such a folly error as he had – having _her_ know that he was a Parselmouth was likely going to come back to haunt him later. While he didn't suspect her of running off immediately to tell Dumbledore, she had regarded him with a wariness that had been absent before.

He didn't like it.

He was used to having people trust him explicitly and almost immediately – it was part of the reason why he made up the façade and used his charms. Tom knew that trust was a very important thing and manipulating trust can open a lot of possibilities but when she had looked at him with such caution, he had felt put off but at the same time it pleased him. He was pleased to see that she wasn't so easily fooled like so many others at the school. She regarded him carefully – not as one would regard an enemy or a stranger – but as though she truly thought of him as a friend.

Friendship to Tom was simply a means to an end. Friendship didn't exist, alliances did. He had momentarily obtained alliances from the pureblood families but only because they were easy to manipulate and had the most money and power. While he didn't necessarily agree with all of their radical ideas, he knew that playing to their interests would give him their loyalty to his cause.

_When in Rome, _as they often said. The purebloods were the most susceptible to these _ideas _especially those from Slytherin (though there did exist some blood extremists in nearly all the houses, just to a small degree). Everything in his plans was unfolding quite nicely but there was still one stray variable to take care of – Alphard Black.

* * *

Padma's Christmas was much more somber than she had intended it to be. Though she attended the feast and chatted with a few of her friends that had stayed for the holidays, there still felt like there was something important missing. She felt dreadfully empty and the feeling scared her. Here she was, only three years in and already dreadful whispers of doubt were slowly filling her ears. It was difficult to stay optimistic for so long when her goal seemed so far off. She released a long sigh as she walked back to the girls' dormitories, trudging up the staircase rather loudly. Tom had taken to avoiding her as well, which she found rather annoying. While he wasn't blatant in his methods, he would always be working on classwork whenever she found him in the library and complain that she was distracting him. She had come to think of Tom as an unlikely friend – an associate of the mind, if anything else. His insights were refreshing and he was very mature for his age.

She still noticed the way Dumbledore would silently stare at Tom as though he was mentally disapproving of his every action – she wasn't sure what to make of the man's behavior. Yes, she knew that Dumbledore would become one of the greatest wizards to have ever lived but why was he so acerbic towards a mere student? Tom was brilliant – amazingly brilliant – but he wasn't too snobby about it – though Padma knew he had a massive ego the size of a dragon's heart. Still, Dumbledore was supposed to be the shining example of Good but why was he acting so strangely towards Tom? She wanted to confront Tom about this but she doubted that he would ever tell her the truth.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn't notice the small present on her bed until she almost sat on it. The present was a small, rectangular box – neatly wrapped and adorned with a small, green ribbon. There wasn't any identifiers on the box so she had no idea who it came from but she quickly tore back the wrapping to reveal – a quill.

But not just any quill, a quill from a peacock. Quills were normally from owls because they were the cheapest and the most readily available. Quills made from the feathers of more exotic birds were typically for expensive. The feather was a rich teal with various shades of green blended in. The tip was a smooth black (likely painted) and she suspected that it was enchanted as well. Upon inspecting the box further, she noticed a small piece of parchment tidily tucked into the lining of the box.

_Just thought of you when I saw this.  
Besides, girls are supposed to like pretty things, aren't they?  
Happy Christmas, Ana.  
– A. Black  
P.S. Save some mistletoe for me, won't you?_

"That plucky little git," Padma muttered fondly. She found herself smiling because of the note and softly stroked the colorful feather.

She twirled the quill around for a bit before putting it carefully with the rest of her things.

Who knew Christmas was full of pleasant surprises?

* * *

"There's just something wrong and I don't understand why!" Padma nearly shouted at her friends. A few weeks after getting back from the winter holidays, she had noticed that Alphard was regarding her strangely – and not in his usually strange way either. He was flat out ignoring her existence at all costs. Even going as far as not using the same hallways as her to get to class!

"But I thought you said that you didn't like him?" Mildred asked, slightly confused.

Alice rolled her eyes. "Milly, even if she doesn't fancy him it is rather odd that he suddenly stopped flirting with her."

"It's not like I miss the flirting either, it's just that he was – I was starting to think of him as a friend?"

"Just a friend?" Alice asked, an eyebrow raised in question.

"Yes, _just_ a friend. He's not so bad when he's not flirting with me."

"Maybe he's finally realized that you'll never return his affections and cast his luck elsewhere?" Milly suggested.

"Are you kidding?" Alice giggled. "Blokes like Black don't give up that easily. They're tenacious and they'll go after their girls."

"I'm not saying that I miss the flirting," Padma reiterated, "but you've got to admit that it's strange that he's just ignoring me like this."

"Maybe you can confront him?" Alice asked excitedly, "It could be so romantic when he confesses that he's trying to change for you."

"He's a thirteen-year-old boy, Alice, I don't think Black's going to change for any girl – especially me."

Alice scoffed, "Don't you have a sense of imagination? Besides, it could be no big deal – maybe he's busy with something?"

"Oh really? And flat out leaving the hallway as soon as he saw me just means that he's 'busy' with things?"

"Well if he's not as bad as you say, Ana, maybe you've got to give Black a chance? I mean you do know him better than us, you know," Milly noted.

* * *

She had it all figured out – even down to the time and place. While Padma wasn't much for confrontations – Parvati seemed overly fond of them for whatever reason – that didn't mean that she was incapable of them. Her drive for an answer seemed to have no restrictions even if it was just something as trivial as finding out why Alphard Black was avoiding her.

She lurked in the corner of the hallway, knowing that he was using the more deserted ones to avoid seeing her between classes. Which Padma found to be both ridiculous and rather offensive. She had to know why he was avoiding her like she had Dragonpox.

Predictably, he rounded the corner with a slight swagger like he always did. He seemed rather carefree though she noticed there seemed to a few more lines in his face than had been there previously. He looked older – not in the sense that he had actually matured, but rather than he had aged physically overnight.

"Alphard!" She shouted, startling him. Alphard's eyes went wide and his body went rigid as soon as he saw her come out from behind the corner. He was about to back away and leave again but Padma was ready, using her wand she cast a quick paralyzing spell which froze Alphard into place, rendering him unable to escape.

"I just want to talk, alright?" She asked, "Why have you been avoiding me? And skip the nonsense, tell me the truth."

"Ana, it's nothing personal – honest. I just – I just can't talk to you right now okay? It's not – it's not good."

"Why isn't it good? Are you suddenly too good for me?"

"No!" He shouted, slightly trembling from frustration and from the fact that he longed to be released form his bonds, "I just can't tell you, Ana! Please don't do this!"

Padma slowed, clenching her wand in her fist so tight that her knuckled turned white. "Fine, if that's what you want. I should have never taken you seriously in the first place. I thought we were actually friends but I guess I was wrong." She hated the fact that her voice was trembling slightly, she had never had to deal with something like this before. She had never had to face a unfaithful friend that would betray her like this – that would go as far as not look her in the eye and tell her what was wrong.

"Ana," Alphard's voice broke, "I – I can't. I'm sorry, truly, I'm sorry but we can't – I can't."

"You don't need to explain," Padma replied coldly. She wordlessly removed his invisible bindings and began to hurriedly run down the hall trying to keep her composure.

"Ana! Wait, please! It's just that Tom –"

Padma stopped in her tracks, nearly stumbling over her feet. "What did you say?"

"That it's not your fault if anything it's –"

"Tom did something, didn't he?" It wasn't a question so much as an accusation. Padma felt righteous anger fill her to the bone. Tom had did this? Why? She remembered him expressing his disapproval but she had never thought he would go as far as intervene personally. She thought he respected her and her choices but that clearly wasn't the case. She had liked that Tom had respectfully warned her but the fact that he went behind her back and threatened Alphard just to stop their friendship was – cruel almost bordering on tyrannical. She was the ruler of her own life and no one else was. She'd be damned to let some _boy_ decide things for her.

"Ana that's not . . ."

"Alphard, please, stop lying. Please at least respect me that much," She pleaded with him.

"I can't tell you – I won't. And it'd be best if you just stayed out of it." Alphard refused to look her eyes as he spoke, staring at the floor.

"Fine," Padma spat, "I won't bother you anymore."

Soul bonds be damned, she was about to show Tom Riddle that no one manipulated Padma Patil's life.

* * *

**"Nessun Dorma (None Shall Sleep)" is a song from an actual opera called _Turandot._** **The play is basically about a prince who falls in love with a beautiful but emotionally cold princess.**

**My schedule has been especially stressful lately but I find that writing has helped me gather my thoughts. Hope you enjoy this piece a few months early. I've changed formatting so it's easier to tell what year they're in.**

**Please review.**


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